Scream of the Butterfly
by Muffy Morrigan
Summary: Sam and Dean go to help an old friend with what seems to be a simple haunting on an archaeological project. Things get bad as it turns out there's more to the hunt than it seems. HurtDean. KazCon Auction fic for Supernaturalbuffy. Complete
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: I was purchased by the amazingly generous, wonderful and just plain awesome __**Supernaturalbuffy**__, at the KazCon fic auction. The auction raised money for a fabulous cause and gave me this opportunity to write for her (and all of you!) Here's your story, hon. Hugs. I hope you like it! I lived on the Res for years, and was privileged to work on several digs in the Southwest. No Impalas were harmed in the writing of this story. Thanks to TraSan!_

_A/N II: Title is from the song by The Doors as well as a very influential paper on Southwestern Archaeology. The evidence for butchered human remains is well documented, but the why (cannibalism, torture, warfare) is still a controversial subject. _

**Scream of the Butterfly**

**Chapter One**

Bright sunlight touched the landscape, warming the interior of the Impala, despite the cool air coming in through the open windows. The scent of sagebrush mingled with coffee, giving the morning an almost medicinal smell. Sam shifted, trying to stay awake, they'd gotten into town late the night before and Dean had insisted on stopping at a local tavern that advertised green chile bacon burgers before they checked into the motel. By the time Sam had finally managed to get to bed it was well past midnight. To top it all off, he had a nagging headache, the result of beer too late and...

"My head hurts," Dean grumbled, mercifully turning the music down.

"It's probably the altitude," Sam said, rubbing his temples. "And the cheese fries, and burgers and whatever that was you ate for dessert."

"Fry bread with berry topping and whipped cream."

"Yeah." Sam sighed. "That."

"It was awesome. I'm having more tonight."

"If we come back into town. We might need to stay out there tonight."

"I'm not camping, Sam. Never, ever camping ever again. Ever." Dean grinned.

"Fine," Sam huffed, not really up to his brother's mood this morning. "No camping. That's the turn coming up, I think."

Dean slowed the car, turning on the left turn light as they approached the place Sam had indicated. "There? Are you sure?"

"That's what Rich said, 'turn left at dirt road across from the church, go under railroad tracks and turn right,'" he said, reading the directions he'd taken the day before.

"Uh huh." Dean turned onto the narrow dirt road and stopped. He looked at the passage under the railway bridge, over at Sam, back at the road and then to Sam. "You've got to be kidding me." He put the car in park and got out, pacing down the road, when he reached the trestle he stretched his arms out, measuring the distance. Sam watched him walk further along the road, a few seconds later, Dean was back, sliding behind the wheel.

"Well?"

"It's going to be close, but this isn't even the best part." Dean put the car in gear and crept down the road, carefully centering the car before driving though the tight space. He stopped on the other side and glanced over at Sam. "Check that out."

"Can you even get up that?" Sam asked in horror. The road turned and went up a hill that looked like it was more a cliff than anything. The clay surface was deeply rutted by other vehicles, the road itself several feet below the surrounding area.

"I hope so, assuming our wheel-base is anything close to those, we might be okay."

"Might?"

"Yep." Dean took a breath, shifted his hands so his thumbs were on the outside of the wheel the way their father had shown them, then eased the car forward, gaining momentum as he went. "Here we go," he said as they reached the base of the hill. Sam could only watch with a combination of horror and admiration as his brother maneuvered the car onto the top of the ruts and up the hill. The rear wheels spun for a moment, but Dean kept the car moving, and they shot over the crest of the hill. Dean stopped and wiped his hand on his jeans. "And the fun continues," Dean's voice dripped with disgust as he looked down the gravel road in front of them.

"Dean..."

"If I get one single scratch on this car, Sammy, I'm kicking your ass."

"How is this my fault?"

"Rich called you." Dean started down the road.

"I answered _your_ phone, Dean."

"Yeah, you did and that makes it your fault. It's in the rules."

"What rules?"

"The 'you answered the phone' rules."

"It was your phone."

"And _you _told him we'd come."

"_You_ said it would be a simple salt and burn and we should come. _You _said since he was paying for the hotel and food it would be a great idea. _You _said we needed a break and this would be a good one."

"Well you wrote the directions down." Dean grinned. "Is there more coffee?"

"Yeah." Sam grinned back, fished the thermos out of the back and cautiously poured Dean a cup of coffee.

"Thanks." Dean took it and focused on the road, humming in time to the music.

Sam leaned back in the seat, bracing himself against the jarring ride. The road wound though a sagebrush flat for several miles before huge red mesas rose on either side, the canyon becoming increasingly narrow as they made their way along a road that looked like it had been a river at one time. It felt like they were the only people on earth, the land around them empty of everything except the huge red canyon walls, sparse vegetation and occasional jackrabbit. Dean swore when he hit a large pot hole or rock, muttering about the underside of the car and casting mock frowning glances at Sam every time it happened.

They were headed out to an archaeological project run by an old friend of their father's and Bobby. Rich Williamson was heading up a large dig sponsored, in part, by donations from a large East Coast development group that had an eye on the land. The dig was situated on a tiny sliver of privately owned land set between the reservation on one side and public lands on the other. State law required an archaeological survey and when the survey team turned up a potential site, Rich had been asked to do the excavation.

Five weeks after work started, the accidents began, at first it was minor things—a transit breaking, the cook stove catching fire during dinner, a rattlesnake in the outhouse—but things had escalated and in the last two weeks three of the project's vehicles had been put out of commission, one worker had a trench wall collapse on him and the staff artist had nearly lost her life when the scaffolding she was sitting on to sketch part of the project gave way. The final straw for Rich had been when the truck carrying artifacts from the dig had plowed into one of the cliffs, killing the man inside and destroying everything in the truck.

"You find anything else?" Dean said, breaking a half an hour of silence.

"No, everything points to a simple haunting."

"By a really pissed off spirit."

"Yeah, the only thing is..."

"Here comes the bad news."

"I read through the field notes Rich forwarded. There are six burials of varying ages on the site."

"Six?" Dean groaned.

"Yeah, and evidence of maybe three more."

"Evidence?"

"Charred bones under the floors in several rooms."

"Charred bones, what does that... Wait, people bones?"

"Yes and they might have been..."

"Don't say it."

"Butchered."

"I told you not to say it. So, it's a people-chow spirit? Ghost of dinners past?"

"Possibly."

"So, we finished charring the bones and we're out of there, have another night in town, eat a couple more green chile burgers and hit the road."

"Assuming that's the spirit."

"Getting eaten tends to piss people off, Sam," Dean said with a smirk. "Who else would it be?"

"One of the other burials?"

"You just have to make it hard don't you?"

They followed a fork in the road, the cliffs closing around them as they went. Dean was breathing a little fast when they finally arrived at the dig twenty minutes later. There was a run-down ranch house surrounded by a juniper log fence sitting in the middle of a box canyon. Dean parked the car outside of the fence and they got out, the red sand covering their boots as they walked.

"Can I help you?" a blond woman in khaki pants and a t-shirt asked as they stepped onto the porch.

"We're looking for Dr. Williamson," Sam said before Dean could get started.

"He's in the office, I'll show you." She smiled brightly at Dean.

"Thanks," Dean said, pushing Sam aside with a quirk of his eyebrow. "I'm Dean, that's my brother Sam."

"I'm Tress, I'm the assistant artist."

"Tress?"

"It's actually Teresa, but my kid sister couldn't manage it when she was younger. When you're done talking to Rich, come out back and I'll show you around."

"Awesome." Dean hit her with the killer smile as she stopped by a doorway closed off from the rest of the house by a multicolored blanket.

"Dean?"

"Just getting to know the locals, so I can get information later."

"Yeah." Sam pulled the blanket aside. "Rich?"

"Sam! Come in," the man said, waving them in. "I'm glad you're here."

"What is it?" Sam asked.

"We had another accident."

"What happened?" Dean said, concerned.

"The lab trailer caught fire last night. Luckily no one was hurt, but it was pure luck, they'd just taken a break to get a snack. If they hadn't they would have been killed. It burned so fast, never seen anything like it."

"Where did the fire start?" Sam asked, meeting his brother's eyes.

"We're not sure. The stove was disabled and the propane tanks were empty."

"What was in the trailer?" Dean was all business.

"We'd just moved some of the artifacts we found over the last few days in there to be evaluated. Tools, pottery, some other items."

"Bones?"

"Some, mostly animal. A human femur and part of a skull cap."

"Can you show us?" Sam said.

"Sure, it's out back," Rich said, standing. He groaned as he did so. "Old age might be setting in, I know all this is making me feel old." He led the way through the house and out the back, waving at several people sitting at a picnic table set under a dead tree. "We moved a lot of the things that had been in the trailer to safekeeping until we could get another truck to run it into the museum."

"Museum?" Sam inquired. He didn't recall seeing a museum mentioned in the papers, but it had mostly been field notes.

"Yes, they are keeping the valuable—and perishable—items until I can take them back to the university."

"Perishable?"

"We've had a fair amount of organic remains here, thanks to the various levels of occupation. We've found foodstuffs from the homestead, shells, feathers and other items in the older parts of the site. We hit the burials in the first few weeks, including the mummy."

"Mummy?" Dean stopped and looked at the older man. "Like Boris Karloff?"

"No, it's not an intentional mummification. It's an accident of the climate. It happens out here. He was buried at the base of the cliff. There's evidence of habitation in the rock shelter near where he was buried as well as a small settlement and kiva up the rock face from where he was found. Very interesting burial goods, unique in my experience. I can't wait to investigate further. We would have kept him here, but we had looters turn up one night. Tress chased them off, but they'd destroyed one entire test trench, so we moved everything of value out of here. It was on the third run into town that the truck wrecked."

"Looters? Could they be responsible for the accidents?"

"I've wondered, but I'm not sure. Some of them, like the fire, just don't seem likely. There was no one around but us last night. No ATVs or even signs of someone on the road up there," Rich said, gesturing towards the top of a cliff. "This is the trailer."

"Oh my god," Sam whispered, looking at the melted remains of a travel trailer. There wasn't much left, just the skeleton and the twisted pieces of one wall. The ground was blackened by the fire and heat still rose from the spot.

"Jeff, come over and meet the Winchesters," Rich called. A large man with native features in a t-shirt and jeans walked over. He had a heavy turquoise and silver watch bracelet on his left wrist. "Jeff Yazzie, this is Sam and Dean."

Yazzie shook Sam's hand in a firm grip and smiled. "Rich told me he was calling you."

"Jeff's my second in command. He's worked with me for three years, although I might lose him to the Nation one of these days."

"Nation?"

"The Navajo Nation," Rich said like it was obvious. "Jeff is an expert on all phases of excavation and as an added bonus was raised a little north of here in Tohatchi, so he knows the area well. He's acted as a liaison with members of the Nation, talking to them and adding to our background knowledge of the area."

"Don't listen to him, he only hired me because I make a mean goat stew."

"He does, and he's right, only reason I hired him." Rich chuckled.

"Goat stew?" Dean made a face.

"Don't knock it till you try it."

"Right." Dean wandered off, poking through the remains of the trailer. He squatted down and dug at something with his pocket knife, flipped it over and moved on. Sam watched him. His brother was in hunter-mode, nothing could really distract him once he got going. He waited as Dean poked around, stopping to dig something up now and then, toeing at the dirt someplace else. "Sam, look at this."

"What is it?" Sam asked, hurrying over to his brother, Rich and Jeff trailing behind him.

"Check it out, I think the fire started here." Dean squatted down and poked at a black ring, darker than the surrounding sand.

Sam crouched down beside his brother. The heat from the ground radiated through his jeans. He pulled his own knife out and prodded at the ground. The sand in the dark ring was a different texture than the earth surrounding it. He slid the blade along the ring. _What's the melting temperature of sand? About 1500 degrees? _Whatever had caused the fire had come close to that temperature, the sand wasn't glass, but it was well on its way.

"I think you're right," Sam said. "But how?"

"Pissed off people-chow?"

"What?" Jeff asked.

"Victims of cannibalism?" Dean gave him a "duh" look.

"Actually, we're not sure it was cannibalism," Jeff offered cautiously.

"Sam said some of the remains showed evidence of butchering. If that doesn't indicate cannibalism what does it mean?" Dean stood and brushed off his hands, facing Jeff and Rich. Sam hid a grin, leave it to his brother to get right to the point of controversy.

"It could be many things, mistreatment of prisoners of war, some kind of punishment related to capital crimes..." Rich began.

"Right," Dean cut him off. "How about we go with 'people who are butchered might be pissed off.'"

"Salt and burn?" Rich asked with a smile.

"Sounds like a plan," Dean said.

"We can't burn the remains!" Jeff said, horrified.

"Do you have another idea to deal with a really angry spirit, because that's what we're dealing with here," Dean snapped. "The fire that destroyed your trailer was hot enough to make glass, you think that was just an accident? Or that some looter could set a fire that burned that hot?"

"But..." Jeff was shaking his head.

"But what?" Dean snapped out, Sam could tell his brother was angry.

"Dean," Sam said softly, trying to stop Dean before his brother got really wound up.

"What, Sammy? Wait till someone else dies? A simple salt and burn is all it needs."

Sam sighed, Dean was right, but he doubted it would be easy to convince an archaeologist to burn artifacts. "We need to investigate further, but it really does sound like that's the only answer." _Let the idea sink in for a bit, Dean. _He stared at his brother, sending the silent message, hoping Dean would understand the meaning of the look.

He shouldn't have worried, Dean met his gaze and nodded. "Yeah, it might be one of the other graves for all we know. We'll look around for awhile. I'll talk to some of your crew and we can take a look at the site."

"Sites actually," Rich said, relieved. "There's the rock shelter, the kiva, and the homestead."

"Okay, we'll start at the back and work our way forward," Dean said. "Sam?"

"I'll look at the rock shelter with Jeff."

"So I get to climb the cliff, right? How did that happen?"

"I'm stealthy, that means you're agile," Sam said, tossing one of Dean's favorite quotes back at him.

"I might go ilk hunting." Dean grinned. "You know what an ilk is, right?" he said, continuing the scene.

"A really big deer?" Sam answered with a laugh.

"Boys?" Rich said, looking from one to the other.

"Sorry." Dean smirked. "Want to point me in the right direction?"

"I'll have Dale show you around," Jeff said as they walked back towards the ranch house. "He's in charge of that part of the project."

A light breeze was blowing through the canyon, the trees whispering softly, native sunflowers lined the path, their bright blossoms turned to the east. The sun was warm, but there was a definite chill on the wind, Autumn was arriving in the high country already. As they headed across the site, Sam looked around, getting his bearings, noting the pin flags fluttering in the breeze. _Probably marking excavations. _He could see people working in the distance, only heads and shoulders visible above the ground. When they reached the house, they stopped by the picnic table, several people were still sitting there, coffee mugs sitting in front of them.

"Dale?" Jeff said to the group.

"Yeah?" a dark-haired man, looking to be in his early thirties answered.

"Can you show Dean the excavation?"

"Sure. I'm Dale," he said, extending his hand to Dean, then Sam. "You want coffee?" He stood, picking up his cup. Sam looked at him in surprise, the man was a least a couple of inches taller than him.

"Coffee?" Dean perked up. "Yeah."

"Let's get a cup and I'll show you around." He led Dean into the house.

"You want coffee?" Jeff asked Sam.

"No, I'm fine."

"Okay. Do you want to look at the graveyard? It's on the way to the rock shelter."

"No, let's start at the shelter," Sam said, falling in beside Jeff as they headed up a path towards the towering cliffs. As they got closer, Sam could see black streaks marring the stone, looking like liquid had run down the wall. _Or maybe smoke up it? _"Have you been here since the project started?"

"Before, actually. We used to come down here when I was a kid. We stayed in the house when we were following the sheep." Jeff smiled. "It was quite an adventure. We used to scare each other by saying we heard something, or we saw a ghost."

"Did you?"

"Did I what?"

"See a ghost?" _If there's an angry spirit here, you'd think it was here then, too. _

"No, not really."

"Not really?" Sam glanced at him.

"There are stories about this canyon, legends, about spirits here and of course some of them mention bad spirits, but I've never heard about anyone being killed or injured, at least not until we got here."

"Are you sure?" An odd sense of foreboding, bordering on panic, was starting to find its way into Sam, he wasn't sure what was causing it, but his hunter's instincts were suddenly ringing an increasingly loud alarm. He stopped and looked around, everything was quiet, but that sense of doom was still there, prodding at him.

"Yeah, I am, I would have heard about it, believe me." Jeff sighed and led the way under a huge overhang of sandstone. There were several square holes cut into the floor of the rock shelter, one of them with a dark circle in the center. "That's a hearth," Jeff said, following his look.

"What's that?" Sam said, pointing to a line of pink flags on the far side of the rock shelter. He could see Dean and Dale walking along a path that skirted the area. Dean stopped and looked up the cliff, Sam couldn't hear what his brother said, but from the tone of the laughter that did reach him he could make a guess.

"That's where we found the mummy and to the right there," Jeff said, pointing along the shadow of another rock shelter, "the floor of a possible dwelling, parts of some butchered bodies. At least two individuals."

"Is there a cave there?"

"Yes, in the corner, it's the dark spot. It goes a ways back into the cliff and has been used for a long time as a sacred spot."

"How long?"

"It's still in use," Jeff said, his voice hard. "It's one of the reasons I am trying to stop the developers. Some of them don't care what we've found and I think..."

"What?"

"All these accidents started happening after we reported finds that might halt their plans. Then looters show up?"

"You think it's them?"

"I don't know," he growled.

"Anything else?" Sam wandered around the shelter, following a path made by flags, looking into the trenches, hoping to see something that would make sense, and digesting the information Jeff had given him. _Of course, it raises other questions as well. _

"About them or the site?"

"Either?"

"We had an odd find between the cave and where the mummy was, it looked like a grave, but no body, just offerings. I think it relates to the site's use as a sacred space, Rich thinks it might have been..." He stopped, his head cocked to the side. "What the hell is that?"

Sam heard it, a deep rumbling along the cliff wall, the sense of foreboding exploding into full blown panic. He cast a wild glance at Jeff and started running, not even sure where he was going, but following along the wall as the sound build from rumble to something more ominous. _Oh my god, no. _

"Dean!" he screamed at the top of his lungs. His brother heard him and turned, Sam saw the look of concern flit over Dean's face. "Get out of there! Dean!" Blind panic propelled him along the path a high speed.

"Sammy?" Dean shouted, starting towards him.

"Dean! RUN!"

The panic in his voice must have impressed his brother. Dean started to run.

It was too late. With a terrible shriek that sounded like a human voice raised in fury, the cliff above Dean blasted apart. Sam was tackled from behind, Jeff's weight bearing them both to the ground as rocks rained down on them. The stones slammed into Sam, pain running though his body. He was breathing hard, trying to stay conscious, when the rumbling died away. Not caring about his own injuries, he pushed himself up through the sandstone that had fallen on him and looked towards where his brother had been. There was very little of the rock shelter left, the mouth of the cave was completely buried in rumble.

"Dean!" Sam called desperately as he reached the pile of stone.

A single leg protruded from the stones, or what had been a leg, only the crushed and mangled remains of an ankle and foot were visible. "NO!" Sam shouted. He fell to his knees and started pulling stones away from the body, working through the tears filling his eyes and running down his cheeks.

_**To Be Continued**_

_A/N III: Chapter Two will be up next Saturday._

_A/N IV: For those of you waiting for Edge, Gifts and The Forest, I should have chapters up before Wednesday. _


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Thank you all for reading and reviewing. I'm sorry Gifts didn't get posted this week. A family emergency came up, and put me a little behind. Thank you to TraSan_

_A/N II: The turpentine taste in the tea Dean drinks is from what is commonly called "greasewood" or "creosote bush" in the Southwest. _Larea Trindentata _is also known as chaparral and is used in indigenous medicine through out the Southwest and Mexico. After long debate with myself, I decided to not list the herbs in the painkiller. It is based on a traditional recipe. _

**Scream of the Butterfly**

**Chapter Two**

Dust swirled around Sam like a heavy fog, sharp stones cutting into his knees. It didn't matter. He kept digging, pulling rock after jagged rock off the pile trying to get to the body buried under the rock fall. The presence of other people barely registered, he was entirely focused on what he was doing. He'd been there for an eternity when he took another look at the boot and mangled leg protruding from the pile. The brown boot and khaki pant leg, the rag-wool sock with the red trim that showed where the pant leg was pulled up off the ankle. A breath became a sob. _Not Dean. _With that thought came a new wave of panic. If this wasn't Dean, where was his brother?

More people dropped beside him, the pile was diminishing quickly. A hand was visible, then the shirt Dale was wearing. Blood marred the stones. Sam kept going, thinking maybe Dale had shoved Dean down the same way Jeff had tackled Sam when the cliff exploded. He knew better, Dean had been moving when it happened. His brother would be buried closer to the wall of the mesa, where the largest of the stones had landed.

"He's alive!" Jeff shouted, stopping the frantic work for a moment. "Careful people, don't move him!"

"Evac's on the way," Rich said. "Not too long."

"Good." Jeff was kneeling at Dale's head, a hand on the man's back.

"Dean, can you see Dean?" Rich asked.

"No," Jeff said quietly.

"He's got to be here!" Sam stood and looked towards the back of the rock fall, despair twining with the panic in his chest. If Dean was under that, there was no way he could have survived. _No. _Sam climbed over the increasingly large stones working his way towards the cliff face, trying to figure out where Dean had been when the wall came down. Glancing across at the rock shelter where he'd been standing, Sam moved further to his right, slipping when his foot came down on several smaller rocks. He managed to avoid falling, and worked his way further along the pile.

A distant rumbling was the only warning he had before another shower of stones fell from the top of the cliff. Sam looked up in time to see part of the face sheer away, bright sunlight blinding him for a moment. Rich and Jeff shouted and Sam did his best to scramble across the rocks, he dove towards the cliff. The dark red stones slammed into the ground, shifting the pile that was already there, crushing the last of Sam's hope.

**XXX**

Dust filled the air, making it hard to breathe, each deep breath becoming a cough that sent rivers of pain running through his body. There was something warm trickling over his stomach, Dean really hoped it was blood, not something else. He was out of it enough for the "something elses" to take on nightmare proportions. Monster slime, bat droppings, cougar spit, there were just so many possibilities he didn't want to open his eyes. A tremor ran through the earth under his body, somewhere in the distance he heard a series of muted thuds. "Sam?" he said, opening his eyes.

It was dark, a tiny sliver of light offering a faint glow in the overwhelming night of wherever he'd fallen. Stifling a groan he managed to roll over onto his back. He could just make out a wall on one side of him. It looked almost like an arch, rising over his head to disappear into the darkness. From somewhere high above him he could hear the annoyed squeaking of bats, the rustle of their flight loud in the quiet place. "This is just great," he said out loud, listening to his voice echo. "With my luck they're vampires." Dean chuckled, the sound of his voice comforting in that dark place. "Sammy?" he called, hoping for an answer, not surprised when none came. "You be okay, you hear me?" Panic pushed against his heart. He'd been running towards his brother when the cliff had blasted apart, and now that he thought about it, he couldn't get the image of Sam crushed under a pile of rocks out of his head.

"That's not helping."

He closed his eyes and assessed the damage to his body as best he could. His legs were bruised, but not broken, although there was a pain in one ankle that might be a sprain. His arms and hands moved, so he didn't think they were broken either, but something was wrong with his left shoulder. Liquid was running over his head, he was less worried about that than the sharp pain and warmth on his chest and abdomen. He'd had enough head wounds to know they bled like crazy, the other wound was more worrying.

"So what are you going to do about it?" he asked himself. "Maybe getting off your ass is a good plan?"

Dean pushed himself into a sitting position, pain tearing into his side as he did. Blinking he focused on the huge pile of rocks by his feet, but he'd somehow landed just inches from the edge of the rockfall. He shifted a little so he could get a look at the ankle, his leg was swollen above the top of the boot, so he decided to just leave it for the time being. When he got out, they could take care of it.

"When you get out?" He snorted. "You did notice you were trapped in a cave, right?"

Taking a deep breath, and wrapping one arm around the aching wound in his body, he grabbed for a large rock and pulled himself upright. "Oh shit." Sweat was pouring down his face by the time he finished and tears had gathered in his eyes. "Totally involuntary tears, Sammy, like the kind when you pull a nose hair," he informed his absent brother. "You know? That head wound might be worse than I thought."

He took a cautious step, gently transferring weight onto his injured ankle. "Oh, so not good." Reaching out, he used the rocks to support himself and limped towards the cave wall. Once there, he leaned against it, taking a few breaths to still the nausea winding through his body and pressing against the back of his throat. "Sammy? You be okay," he said again. "And get me out of here."

Dean really had no idea where he thought he was going. He was in a cave, the mouth was blocked by really big rocks and as far as he knew, there was no other entrance, the red mesas stretched for miles on either side of the canyon where the dig was set. He decided his best bet was to follow that tiny sliver of light hoping it would lead the way out. So he set out, moving along the wall, action was better than inaction. At least he felt like he was doing something.

He'd gone several feet when he noticed a dim glow ahead of him. "Go towards the light," he joked. As he got closer, he thought he could smell smoke, a warm campfire smoke filled with an undertone of, Dean sniffed, sage. He recognized it from the smudges they used when dealing with some spirits and cleansing rituals. He stumbled along the wall, heading towards the flickering light of a fire. He was sure of that now, it was definitely a campfire. "Or a really cool hallucination," he said just to break he enveloping silence.

Dean could see it clearly now, a fire with a pot sitting beside it, there was a colored blanket on the ground beside the fire and a pile of wood off to the side. He focused on the flames and pushed himself off the wall, aiming for the blanket, hoping he'd make it before he collapsed. The floor tilted to the side, but he managed to stay mostly on his feet. He dropped onto the floor, missing the blanket by a good five feet. He had every intention of pulling himself further along the floor. "In just a minute though, Sammy." Dean closed his eyes, the warm from the fire touching his face. "In just a min..."

He was much warmer when his minute was over. And it felt like he was lying on his back, opening his eyes he looked up into darkness, a tiny spot of light high above his head. The fire felt warmer, the light brighter than it was when he'd closed his eyes. Shifting, he realized his shirt was missing and his shoes were off. Something cool was laying against his side. He lifted his head, a piece of red cloth was covering a lump on his side. He reached out to touch it.

"Don't move it," a deep voice said, the sound echoing around them.

"What is it?" Dean turned his head, a man in a deep purple shirt and jeans was sitting beside him. He was wearing a silver and turquoise bracelet and had a long necklace of what looked like turquoise and some kind of red stones around his neck.

"A poultice," he answered. He poured liquid out of a battered blue enamel coffee pot into a tin cup. "This is hot, so be careful." Moving forward, he put an arm under Dean's shoulders and lifted him enough so he could take a drink. The hot liquid burned across his tongue and down his throat. It took several seconds for the taste to register—it tasted like turpentine smelled. Dean gagged. "They don't taste good, do they?' the man chuckled as he set the cup down again.

"Where am I?"

"You are safe here."

"And here is?" Dean asked, trying to get a better look around. After trying to sit up, he settled for lifting his head and glancing around the cave.

"Someplace safe." He smiled and Dean knew that was all he would get out of him. "Who's Sammy?"

"Sammy?" Dean asked, confused.

"You were talking to him. Does he walk with you?"

"He's my brother. Is he okay?"

"Was he here with you?"

"We were outside, looking at the dig and something happened, the cliff collapsed."

"Ah, yes." The man looked sad for a moment. "I don't know if he's okay, I am sorry."

_Sammy? Be okay. _"Who are you?"

"You can call me Joe," the man said with a smile.

"Joe?"

"It'll work."

"It'll work?" Dean asked, he felt like he was missing something.

"Yep. I need to renew the poultice, this is going to hurt."

"Not this might sting a little?"

"What?" Joe frowned at him.

"Never mind."

"I'm going to take the old one off first."

"Okay." Dean braced himself. "That didn't hurt," he said when he felt a cool breeze against his side.

"I know. This will."

The next moment something hot came into contact with his skin—but the burn was more than surface deep. It felt like it was opening a hole in his side, fire moving along his skin. Someone screamed in pain, he realized it was him. Pressure followed the burn, pressing the hot mass into him, taking pain to the edge of agony. It was at the point of almost unendurable, when the pressure eased and a cool cloth swiped across his brow. "Shit."

"Sorry, I know it hurts. I remember when I was a child, I fell when I was climbing and my grandfather used this to heal me. It was a big reason to not be clumsy," Joe said with a laugh.

"What's in it?" Dean could smell it now, a strong medicinal scent some of it almost recognizable.

"Greasewood, osha, dock and sage. It's in the tea as well."

"Tasty."

"It will keep you from dying. I am making something that tastes good, if that makes you feel better." He picked up a basket and took a handful of leaves and twigs from it. Dean watched as he put it in a pottery bowl and added water from the coffee pot.

"That doesn't smell like it's going to taste good," Dean said dubiously.

"This wouldn't. It's for your ankle."

"Greasewood and stuff?" Dean asked, trying to keep himself distracted. The pain was beginning to throb through his body, pulsing in time with his heart. Cold crept along his spine.

"No, that's for an open wound, this is for bruises and sprains."

"Those take something different?"

"Of course," Joe said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Why would you use the same thing? It is two different injuries."

"Not really."

"Yes, really." Joe chuckled softly as he laid the hot mixture on Dean's ankle. "Why would you say they were the same? They have different causes, different healing."

"They were all caused by rocks falling on me."

"In a way, yes, but each injury and wound is different, each affects the body in a different way." He carefully wrapped a piece of red cloth around Dean's ankle, pressing it down to make sure it was keeping the mixture in place. Dean hissed, grinding his teeth together to stop from crying out. "We'll leave that on until it cools," Joe said, moving so he could sit down by the fire.

"Do I have to drink tea that tastes like that smells?" Dean asked, grimacing.

"No, just the other. The tea is also for an open wound, to keep it from getting poison in it."

"Good, I think more would make me puke."

"You can have a little of this broth, it will help settle your stomach." Joe dished something out of the pot into a bowl. "No, don't move, I'll help." Joe moved so he was behind Dean and propped him up so he could sip from the bowl. The broth was richly flavored of meat and corn. It ran through Dean's body, warming him and chasing the nausea away. "Not too much, you can have more later." Joe said when the bowl was empty, he gently eased Dean down.

"That was awesome," Dean said, clamping down on a groan. The pain was beginning to get the upper hand, he knew it was going to get worse, too. _I would kill for the first aid kit and one of those pain pills we have about now. _

"How bad is your pain?" Joe asked, like he knew what Dean had been thinking.

"It's okay."

"Ah." Joe nodded with approval and started taking leaves and twigs from another basket and placing them in the tin cup. He poured water over them and stirred them with his finger, mumbling something under his breath, an odd unfamiliar melody filled the cave. "This will help," Joe said after a few minutes of stirring and humming.

"What is it?"

"It will help with the pain, it will let you sleep." Joe lifted Dean's head and placed the cup against Dean's lips, tipping it so he had to drink. The bitter liquid slid down Dean's throat, he gagged, but Joe poured the rest of the contents of the cup into him.

"That was disgusting," Dean said when Joe released him.

"Yes, those have to be, they can be deadly in the wrong hands, and the taste is a warning." He placed a cool cloth on Dean's head. "Don't fight it, let it take the pain, let yourself sleep."

"I don't think I have any choice," Dean mumbled, already aware of a heaviness in his limbs. Everything around him was swimming, colors beginning to play in the shadows. The soft cheeping of the bats far over head became a song. "What did you give me?" Dean demanded, fear curling though him.

"Something for the pain, I did not lie. It will help you sleep, and when you wake we will talk about what you've seen."

"What I've seen?" The pain was leaving his body, the world wavering in movement.

"Yes." Joe laid his hand on Dean's head. "Try not to be afraid."

"Wha...?" Dean's body was relaxing, his eyes closed and Joe began to sing softly. The strange cadence of the song was the last thing Dean heard before he slipped away.

_**To Be Continued**_


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: Dedicated to the amazing Supernaturalbuffy, who bought me at Kazcon. I kept our conversation in mind... They aren't in this chapter, but I'm setting it up for the you know what! Thank you to TraSan._

_A/N II: Evidence for burial practices in the pre-Anasazi Southwest is scanty at best. I have based mine on burials of a similar age and tool complex in other areas. _

**Scream of the Butterfly**

**Chapter Three**

The helicopter caused wind to whip around Sam as it powered up to take off. They'd landed on the top of the mesa, unable to get the chopper into the canyon. Sam and the staff of the dig had watched anxiously as the EMTs worked on Dale, finally loading him onto the stretcher carefully lifting it up to the helicopter. By the time they left, Sam was nearly frantic in his need to continue the search for Dean, he knew there was no hope, but Rich had called for an excavator to come in and they were waiting, each second ticking off in Sam's head with a little burst of panic.

Rich came over as soon as the chopped was airborne. "We'll find him, Sam," he said putting a hand on Sam's shoulder.

"Yeah," Sam said, running a hand through his hair, hearing the defeat and the sympathy in the other's voice. He swallowed the ache in his throat and blinked the tears out of his eyes. _I'll find you, Dean. _

"Rich!" Jeff called from where he was pacing along the edge of the rockfall. He was on the far side of the pile, staring down at something. "You better get over here!"

Rich took off, jogging quickly around the rocks, Sam followed, hoping it wasn't his brother, fighting the sinking sensation as he looked over the huge pile. No one could have survived that, not even his brother. _Oh god, Dean. _He took a deep breath and glanced around, some of the staff was working on clearing the pile, others were standing, just staring over the destruction.

Rich stopped beside Jeff, puffing from his jog. "What is it?"

Jeff shook his head and pointed. Sam looked down, there was an edge of what looked like pelvis, a striped stone and another larger than the pelvis, with a bit of stone imbedded in it. Rich squatted down with an exclamation of surprise, reaching for something under the bone. He stopped just short of it and bend down, getting as close as he could get without touching. "My god."

"I know. Can it be real?"

"God, if it is..." Rich breathed.

Sam tried to see what was there, but he couldn't make anything out. His let his eyes wander along the line of stones leading to the mesa. Most of the rocks had fallen further down the cliff and it was only a couple of feet deep here. A spot of green in the red rocks stopped him, he stared at it for a moment, then raced over the stones to get to it. A piece of green fabric. He snatched it up, it was from Dean's shirt. He looked up the cliff face, there was a tiny crack running half way up it. He looked along the cliff, he could see the rock shelter he'd been and, in the other direction, the pink flags marking part of the site. He was standing where... _No, that can't be right. _He looked again. "Rich? Jeff?" He turned to them.

"What is it?" Jeff asked.

"Wasn't there a cave entrance somewhere around here?"

"What?"

"I thought there was a cave?"

Jeff stood and stared at the cliff. "There is."

"Where?"

"It's gone," he said in disbelief. "How could it be gone?"

"It was here, wasn't it?" Sam demanded.

"Yes."

"Dean! Dean, can you hear me?" Sam shouted, leaning forward towards the break in the wall. "Could he have fallen into the cave when the cliff exploded?"

"This is the right place, or was."

"I found a piece of his shirt." Sam held out the fabric. "Maybe he got into the cave before the rocks fell?"

"Maybe, Sam, but if he did, where is he?"

"In the cave?"

"Where's the cave?" Jeff was bewildered, something odd playing on his face. "It's always been right here."

"How the hell could it just disappear? The walls didn't shift that much," Rich said, joining them.

"I don't know," Sam answered. He didn't, whatever they were dealing with was different than what they'd dealt with before, this wasn't a simple haunting.

"More to the point," Rich said, joining them. "If he did make it in, and he's alive on the other side of this, how the hell do we get him out past a wall of solid rock?"

**XXX**

The song echoed around him, bouncing off the red walls, mixing with the sound of flowing water. Dean opened his eyes and stared up into a bright blue sky. A single white puffy cloud was visible drifting over the cliffs. He could see the spiral flight of a group of raptors circling in a thermal draft, lazily moving in the warm afternoon. The scent of sagebrush and wood smoke filled the air, a gentle breeze moved the branches of a bush near his head.

Dean sat up, expecting the pain from the wound in his side, but there was none. He ran a hand over his chest, then peeked down his shirt—no broken skin, not even a bruise. Okay, that was weird. He was where the trailer had been, only there was no traced of the melted remains, not even a hint of burn on the ground around him.

He got up and looked around. The ranch house was gone, the dig vehicles and the Impala nowhere to be seen. Smoke was trailing up the cliff on the eastern side of the canyon. There was a stream cutting the canyon in half, the water gurgling softly as it flowed through the arroyo. When he got close to the bank, he spotted a steep trail leading down to the water and up the other side.

"Sam!" he shouted, his voice bouncing back from the cliffs. "Sammy?" For some reason he knew there would be no answer, but he shouted again, just to be sure, before heading down the path and crossing the stream. It was eerily silent. _Not silent, more quiet. _He could hear birdsong, the wind in the bushes, the soft whisper of water, a hawk's cry and the croak of a raven, but the background noise he was used to—planes, vehicles, music—were missing, it was just the sounds of the land.

He climbed the arroyo bank and headed across towards where he could see a fire burning. As he got closer, he realized he could see people. They hadn't been there before, he was sure of it, but they were there now, gathered around something. "Hey!" he called out, but no one turned to acknowledge his presence. "Hey!"

There was tension in the group, a woman was crying, several men were clustered together, heads bowed. A single man stood at the edge of the main group, staring out into the canyon, his eyes tracking back and forth, obviously on guard. Dean stepped right in front of him and waved his hand. The man didn't move—his breathing didn't even change. "Hello?" Still no reaction. It was beginning to freak him out.

With a shrug he walked around the guard and towards the group. A body was on the ground, curled into the fetal position, several stone objects laid carefully around it. One of the men said something, his voice deep, quieting the others. He began to sing, the song remarkably like the ones Joe had sung as Dean went to sleep. The man dropped a handful of plants onto the body, then turned away. The other's moved forward and began piling stones over the corpse.

A shiver ran through Dean's body, he looked up and the man was looking right at him. Not past him, not out into the canyon, right into his eyes. Dean took a step back, the other came towards him, one hand outstretched, singing again.

Something about it was terrifying, Dean tried to get away, but the man caught him easily. He spoke, put his hand against Dean's chest and the world blasted away.

It was cold. Dean opened his eyes, stars twinkled above him, the first hint of dawn streaking across the sky. He tried to sit up, his body barely responded, almost like he was drugged. He could hear the stream to his left a coyote yipped another answered, the ground smelled wet, the morning dew still heavy around him. A bright moon lit the sky, between that and the soft early morning light, it was bright enough to see, long shadows wavered around him. He was lying on the ground, close to where he'd fallen.

A voice spoke and he froze. The man approached him, coming out of the deep shadows of the cliff. Dean watched him warily. It wasn't the same man, but there was something familiar about him. He squatted down next to Dean and said something. Dean shook his head, hoping that the man would understand. He seemed to, he nodded and started drawing on the ground, humming to himself. As he sang others got closer. Dean tried to get up, but he couldn't, something was wrong.

He looked down, a wound opened in his body, a slash opening his chest, exposing bone. Dean gasped in horror and the wound went away, one appeared on his arm, fading as the dark spots of disease began to cover him, those passed and his body changed, becoming emaciated, hunger pulsing through him. Blood dropped in front of his eyes, burns scorched him. Dean fell to the side, trying to breath, desperately trying to figure out what was going on. His left leg was torn away, he screamed in pain, then hands and feet became gnarled with arthritis. The hunger came again, he absorbed it into his body.

The man spoke softly, his eyes begging Dean to understand. Dean tried to speak, his lungs ached, his heart was slowing down.

The group gathered around him, a woman was crying, gentle hands guided his arms and legs into the fetal position. Objects were placed around him, offerings for the next life, things to keep him happy, to feed him, to let him hunt. The man leaned forward, coating his face and arms with something red. A spear was laid beside him, other things he could no longer see as his sight faded. He tried to take a breath, but it wouldn't come, the last of his air slid out, a fire was lit by his head, the sound comforting as he slipped away.

**XXX**

It was late afternoon, the sun had warmed the rock in front of Sam enough to cast off heat. He was sweating, working to shift the rubble that had gathered at the foot of the cliff. He was focused on the area where the cave had been, the backhoe they'd brought in working at the other side, moving the large stones. Rich was standing beside the machine, carefully guiding its operator to minimize the damage. It had taken them nearly an hour to maneuver it to its spot, being careful of any place artifacts might be. Two of the staff had walked ahead of it, eyes focused on the ground, hoping to find anything that the machine might damage.

Every once in awhile, Sam would reach out and run his hands along the wall, willing the crack to open into a cave. He periodically shouted his brother's name, just in case Dean could hear him. _Assuming he's even alive and not under that pile of stones over there. _Sam glanced at the machinery, then turned away, he couldn't let that thought stop him.

Jeff was working beside him—not on the pile of stones per se, but rather the spot where he'd found the bones. After a long discussion with Rich, they'd decided to excavate it enough to get a better look at what was there. Sam had insisted—forcefully—when Jeff had protested. It might be the answer to what was happening, it might lead to Dean. Oddly, Jeff had acquiesced sooner than Rich. Sam occasionally glanced over, wondering what made Jeff agree to it. Usually archaeologists resisted haste. "Speed destroys sites," Rich had said before he'd finally given in and stalked off towards the ranch house.

"How's it going?" Sam asked, stopping to take a drink of water.

"This is amazing, if I'm not hallucinating, and I could be."

"Why?" Sam crouched down beside Jeff, balancing a shoulder against the cliff wall, letting the warm stone relax a cramped muscle in his back.

"It's just, there is nothing like this anywhere else," Jeff said, looking up at him.

"What do you mean?"

"This bone?" He pointed to a large, obviously non-human bone. "It predates everything else, and these might be carving, not butcher's marks. Which is unknown out here. I'm beginning to think our mummy was a lot older then we originally assumed."

"I thought you dated it?"

"Well yes and no."

"Which means?"

Jeff leaned back. "We based the dating—preliminary of course—on known sites, artifacts, textiles—things like that."

"What about carbon dating?"

"It works great, assuming our sample hasn't been contaminated, and I think he was handled—after burial."

"What?"

"I don't know, it's just a hunch, and no one will believe me anyway."

"Why not?"

"Archaeologists can get kind of entrenched in their ideas." He laughed at his own pun.

"Try me?"

"I'm still not sure, I want to look at this a little closer and maybe go in and look at the mummy again."

"Okay. Can I help?" Sam looked down at the area Jeff was working in, noticing the bones, several stones, a piece of what might be pottery and teeth. "Are those human?"

"You know the answer to that, or you wouldn't have asked." Jeff grinned at him. "There's part of a skull, too. Notice anything weird about it?"

Sam studied the area, following the lines of bone to the bottom then along the edge, idly identifying the remains as he did so, wondering what Jeff meant. Then he saw it, a femur went under the base of the cliff. Shifting so he could get a better look at it, he realized it was directly under the tiny crack that had once been a cave. "Huh," Sam said.

"Yeah, I know."

Sam leaned closer to the rock wall, letting his hand run along the crack. "Can we get the bone out?"

"I don't want to just pull it out and disturb everything else. There's the edge of a point underneath it, too."

"Point?"

"A spearhead."

"Okay. Do you hear something?"

"No."

"You sure, it sounds like..." Sam leaned closer to the cliff. "I'm not sure. You sure you don't hear it?"

"No, I can't hear anything."

"It's gone, whatever it was." Sam stood. "I need to get back to work." He walked back to where he'd been working and started in again, the momentary distraction of the finds gone, replaced with the ache of grief._ Dean, be okay, please be okay._

**XXX**

A fire crackled beside him, warmth creeping into his body, replacing the cold of death. He was on his back, not his side, a blanket pulled over him. He felt heavy, his brain still not working right, still lost between worlds. Someone was moving, he could hear fabric rustling and the sound of metal on metal, a spoon scraping on the bottom of a pan or maybe the tin cup Joe had used.

Reality slammed back. Dean gasped in a breath. He sat up, pain tearing into his side. His hands were trembling and a sudden nausea emptied his stomach before he could even take another breath. When he was finished, Joe covered the spot with dirt and gave Dean a sip of broth before easing him back to the blanket.

"You need to lie down," he said.

"What the hell just happened?"

"Sometimes it affects people that way, you shouldn't be sick like that again."

"That's not what I mean."

"What did you see?"

Dean took another breath, the experience still with him, he lay down, hands shaking as he looked up into the dark of the cave. He closed his eyes, trying to make sense of what happened. It wasn't real, it wasn't real. He shifted his leg, the injured ankle ached, but the leg was there. He took another breath, letting the memory flow over him, thinking about what he'd seen.

"Dean?" Joe asked softly.

Dean opened his eyes and looked at him. "It was you."

_**To Be Continued**_


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: Dedicated to the amazing Supernaturalbuffy. Thanks to TraSan. _

**Scream of the Butterfly**

**Chapter Four**

Sparks from the fire were floating upwards, disappearing into the dark space over his head. Dean was still trying to process the bits of the dream as his eyes tracked the sparks. Joe was quietly stirring something in a pot, softly humming to himself. After a few minutes, Joe switched out the poultice on Dean's side. The wound was beginning to throb, and he could feel a fever starting, his forehead had the odd stretched skin feeling it always got when his temperature rose. He could tell Joe was worried about, the look on his face reflected concern when he'd lifted the old poultice away. "What's wrong?" Dean asked, breaking the silence that stretched between them.

"This wound doesn't look good," Joe said quietly.

"What does that mean?" Dean tried to sit up and get a look at his side, Joe pushed him back down.

"Poison is filling it."

"I thought the gross tea was supposed to stop that."

"It is, but sometimes wounds are bad, sometimes there are other factors."

"Other factors?"

"Yes."

"Like?"

"We need to speak of your dream," Joe said. "Can you see it clearly now?"

Dean thought about that, the images from the dream swam into view. "Yeah. Weird. You were there."

"Yes, I was."

"I think... Was I you? At the end?"

"Yes."

"How was I there? What happened?" Dean took a deep breath, he was beginning to think he didn't have long.

"I sent you there so you would understand. I have been here a long time."

"Are you the one hurting people?" Dean asked.

"No."

"You're here to stop whatever is doing it?"

"Yes."

"Why haven't you?"

"We came here a long time ago," Joe began. "When there were different animals to hunt. We settled here, there was water and shelter. We thought it was a good place—and it was."

"Except?"

"There was something else here, it walked in the night and haunted our days. It had been here, a spirit. Sickness and accidents plagued us. I could do nothing about it, we spoke of it, and I walked into the spirit world and found the way to protect us from the evil. I have been here since. Others have come and gone, different peoples who made offerings to me and the sacred place. Things to help me keep them safe as well."

"Sam said they'd found human remains."

"Yes."

There was something in the way he answered that let Dean know he wouldn't say more on that subject. "So why is this happening now?"

"Everything is out of balance." Joe frowned and put his hand on Dean's forehead. "You are getting worse."

"I know. Why is it..." Dean stopped, sifted through the images from his dream again. "Sam needs to know!"

"Sammy? The one who walks with you?"

"Yes, he can help! I know he can, you just have to help me get to him."

"I cannot leave here, Dean."

"Just get me to the entrance, Sam must be trying to get in."

"There is no entrance anymore."

"What?"

"They would have come in, I told you, it is safe here."

"I have to get to Sam, he can help." Dean swallowed, he was getting dizzy.

"You must rest."

"Sammy, he can help," Dean repeated. "I need to get to him."

"No, you cannot."

"Then let him in."

"I will, but Dean, you might not be able to tell him anything. The medicine isn't working. You don't have long."

Dean sighed. "I know. Maybe you should hurry."

**XXX**

The sun was starting to set, casting long shadows and bathing the landscape in a soft pink. The air was cooling off rapidly, the sweat on Sam's face and back suddenly cold. He stopped and looked around, most of the staff was gathered by the backhoe, standing while Rich talked to the operator of the machinery. Jeff was still crouched over the bones, carefully excavating them, although he had slowed as the light became dim. Sam had heard him muttering off and on and Jeff had called him over once to look at what he'd found. Earlier, Rich had come over and stared at it, shaking his head, then walked back over to where the backhoe was working.

"How's it going?" Sam asked, taking a break from moving the last of the rocks away from the crack in the cliff face. _Be alive, Dean._

"Okay. Look at this," Jeff said, pointing at a bone with his trowel.

"What is it?" Sam squatted down beside him.

"It's another bone with markings on it. There is a definite pattern to the bones, too."

"There is?"

"Yes."

"What does it mean?"

Jeff shrugged. "You're guess is probably as good as mine. This is all new. Nothing like it's been found. The thing is..."

"What?"

"One of the bones in here was mammoth."

"Mammoth?"

"And the point is Clovis."

"But that would mean the site is at least ten thousand years old?"

"Part of it. There are other sites with long term occupation, covering several cultures, but if some of the burials are concurrent with the mammoth bones and point, it's unheard of. It would indicate a much longer use, and an overlay of sacred space that is unknown in this country."

"We need to stop for the day," Rich said, coming over to them.

"No." Sam stood. "We have to find Dean."

"Sam, we're not going to find him tonight, if we ever...There's not enough light."

"No." Sam shook his head. "We can set up lanterns."

Rich frowned and cleared his throat. "Yeah, we can, Sam, but first you have to get something to eat, okay?

"Rich..."

"It'll take us a little time to set up the lights, and even if you don't need a break, I do. It won't be long, okay?" Rich said gently.

"Okay," Sam agreed reluctantly, he didn't want to stop working. If Dean had been injured he would need medical care, and down time meant time to think. _Dean, be okay, please be okay. _Sam looked up the cliff, he thought he saw something moving. Taking a step back, he tried to focus on the spot. It was getting dark, so it was hard to make out. For a second he thought it looked human. "Jeff?"

"What is it?" he asked, standing.

"Up there." Sam pointed towards the shape. Something that sounded almost like a shot rang out. He saw the shape change, then disappear as part of the cliff broke loose. Sam dove towards Jeff, trying to get them clear of the path of the boulder. Jeff shouted as the huge stone plummeted down, they weren't clear. _Sorry, Dean. _Sam closed his eyes, braced himself, felt the rush of wind and...nothing. He opened his eyes.

"Where did it go?" Jeff asked, his eyes scanning the cliff.

"You did see it?" Sam said, getting up off the ground.

"I thought I was dead."

"Yeah, me too."

Jeff turned away, leading the way to the ranch house. "We need a break."

Half an hour later Sam was back at the cliff, he hadn't been able to eat. He'd managed to get cup of coffee down, but even that was threatening to come back up. The longer he'd sat, doing nothing, the worse it got. He'd grabbed a lantern and headed out to where the cave had been.

Dark shapes flitted around the edge of the rock face; Sam could hear the soft squeaks of bats as they flew over his head. They were avoiding the pool of light cast by the lantern, staying out in the shadows, even though there was a swarm of bugs attracted by the light. He could hear coyotes yipping and singing as they hunted in the dark.

He moved the last of the stones away from the wall, tossing them off to the side. Under the final rock was another bone, he bent closer to examine it and ran a finger along the symbols carved in it. A long bone, but smaller than the mammoth bone resting beside it. A sudden thought struck him and Sam pulled out his pocket knife—a gift from Dean with "all the bells and whistles"—including a Jeff compass. The mammoth bone was aligned east/west, the other one north/south. Pulling the lantern closer, he looked at the other bones, glowing softly in the lamplight. Jeff was right, there was a definite pattern to the layout, the human bones in the center, the animal bones on the outside, carefully placed in a circle.

Something caught his eye, an odd shadow at the edge of the cliff. He hadn't noticed it during the day, but the glow from the lantern outlined it. Shifting, he opened his knife and gently poked at it, being careful to not disturb it, but trying to get an idea of what it was.

An explosion shattered the relative silence. Sam stood, something was burning in the front of the building. He snatched up the lantern and ran towards the flames. As he got closer he realized one of vehicles had exploded and was burning. _Oh god, don't let that be the Impala. _He raced around the structure. A pickup truck was engulfed by flames. He breathed a sigh of relief, then ran to help the others put the fire out. Despite their efforts, the truck continued to burn, the fire getting hotter and hotter with each passing minute. The staff fell back, helpless to do anything but watch it burn.

"What happened?" Sam asked Rich.

"I don't know, we were in the office and heard it."

"Who was with you?"

"Only Jeff, everyone else was out back." Rich looked at him, his eyes bleak. "What's going on, Sam?"

"I don't know." Sam took a breath. "It's not what we thought, an angry spirit—at least in the usual sense. Something else is going on."

"Are you sure?"

"The cave disappeared, Rich. The other accidents might have been a ghost, but that's..."

"I know, Sam, but what is it then?"

"I'm not sure. I'm going back to the cliff."

"You need to..."

"Don't say it, Dean's alive." _He has to be. _Sam picked up the lantern and walked back to where he'd been when the truck exploded.

"Sam?" Jeff said, catching up with him. "I'll help."

"Thanks, Jeff. I think I found something."

"What was it?"

"A rock." Sam chuckled.

"A rock?"

"Yeah, I'll show you." Sam set the lantern down. "It's right..." He looked along the base of the cliff, he was in the right spot but the stone was missing. "It was here." _And then the truck exploded. _

"Where?"

"Right here," Sam said, pointing to the spot. The earth had been disturbed, a small indentation left in the ground.

"It looks like something was removed."

"Was everyone at the house?"

"I think so, why?"

"Just curious." Sam stood and paced along the edge of the cliff. "Where was the mummy?"

Jeff joined him. "Just over there. Can you see where that white stripe is on the cliff? That's where it was."

Sam took a step closer to the cliff, the white stripe ran along the face, stopping at the vertical crack. He hadn't noticed it before, but then again, he wasn't looking for it either. Reaching out, he ran his hand along it, the white was a different texture than the red sandstone that made up the rest of the cliff.

"Sammy?"

He turned to Jeff. "What?"

"Huh?" he said, looking over at Sam.

"Nothing."

"Sammy?"

"What?" Sam snapped.

"What is it?" Jeff asked, frowning at him.

"Sammy?"

Sam had been looking right at Jeff that time, the man hadn't spoken. "Dean!" Sam shouted, his voice echoing around them. He leaned into the cliff and shouted into the break in the wall. "Dean?!? Answer me."

"You are Sammy?" Someone said from the other side of the wall, the voice deep.

"Yes?"

"What's going on, Sam?" Jeff said.

"You walk with Dean?" the voice asked.

"Dean? Is he okay?"

"You are the one who walks with him?"

"I'm his brother. Is he okay?" Sam could hear the desperation in his voice.

"Sam, calm down," Jeff said, laying a hand on his shoulder.

"Where's Dean?" Sam demanded.

"He is here," the voice said quietly. "Step back."

"What?"

"Step back. Now!"

Sam stumbled back from the cliff sound ran through the rocks, creating a harmonic that sounded like a song. The stones around him vibrated as the volume increased and suddenly the crack in the wall was opening, the cave slowly becoming visible. A black cloud stormed out of the opening, slamming into Sam and driving him to the ground, the angry squeaking of what might be bats assaulting him. Jeff shouted in pain as Sam covered his face, trying to protect his eyes from the sharp claws that were tearing at him. Sam reached blindly for the lantern, grabbing it and swinging it up in front of his body. The bats—if that's what they were—swarmed around him one more time then they were gone and disappearing into the night.

Sam pushed himself up, wiping blood from his eyes. "Jeff, are you okay?" he said, kneeling down beside him.

"Yeah. What was that?"

"I don't know. The cave is back." Sam stood and offered Jeff his hand and hauled him to his feet.

"Where did it come from?" Jeff said, staring at the mouth of the cave.

"Where did it go?" Sam picked up the lantern and headed into the dark opening. "Dean?" he called.

"Do you think he's in there?"

"Maybe, I thought I heard... Never mind." Sam stepped further into the cave. Several stones were laying inside the door. "Some of the rocks fell in here."

"They did," Jeff agreed.

Sam lifted the lantern to get a better look around him. There was a dark stain on the floor to his left, he walked over. "This is blood," he said, hoping the panic that was pounding in his chest wasn't in his voice.

"You sure?"

"Yeah." Sam noticed another stain on the wall. He walked over—part of a hand print, there was another a couple of feet further into the cave. "Whoever it was went this way." The prints continued on, Sam followed them. About fifteen feet from the entrance of the cave, petroglyphs covered the wall, abstract designs, something that looked like a sun and various animals. A little further on, the cave broke into two corridors, he paused for a moment, unsure, then followed the left hand fork. The distinctive scent of sage smoke filled the air, he thought he could see the soft glow of a fire flickering ahead of him. "This way!" he yelled as he broke into a run. "Dean!" His voice echoed in the cavern; over his head bats started squeaking angrily. "Dean!"

"Sam, wait!" Jeff shouted.

Sam ran on, the cave opened up into a huge room, the fire was burning on the far side. A motionless figure lay beside it. "Dean!" Sam ran to where his brother was, slamming to his knees beside him "No!" he shouted. "No, Dean, please."

His brother's eyes were open, staring sightlessly up into the darkness above them.

"Dean?" Sam reached desperately for a pulse with a shaking hand."Please, Dean."

_**To Be Continued**_


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: For the wonderful Supernaturalbuffy, remember you mentioned bats! Thank you everyone for reading and reviewing. Thank you to TraSan_

**Scream of the Butterfly**

**Chapter Five**

The fire snapped, the flames casting shadows on the cave walls, overhead there was the angry rustling of wings. Dean looked into the darkness, wondering what had irritated the bats. Joe had left moments before, disappearing as if he'd never been. Dean would have thought he'd hallucinated everything, except he could feel the rough texture of the blankets against his skin. The bats started muttering, their squeaks competing with the noise from the fire as a chant slowly filled the cavern. Joe's voice gained strength, the song becoming clear, even if the words were not. Dean let himself drift on the song, images of the people, the place as it had been moving in front of his eyes. He did register the moment when a large cloud of bats boiled down and out of the cavern, their passages creating a small wind that whipped the fire, but it didn't pull him away from the vision.

"He who walks with you is coming, Dean," Joe said quietly.

Dean didn't answer, lost in the reality of the dream. Large animals moved over the landscape, their calls sounding in the night. It changed, there were other people, waiting at the cliff. Why was Joe guiding him here?

"Dean!" A shout increased the angry mutters from the remaining bats. "Dean! No!" A shadow fell across him and then something thumped on the ground beside him. "No, Dean, please."

The dream held him transfixed, the physical world less sharp-edged than those distant places.

"Dean?" A shaking hand touched his throat, fingers pressing against the side of his neck to find a pulse. "Please, Dean." Sam said, desperation in his voice.

The vision dropped away, Dean blinked, the world came back into focus. Sam was beside him, a look of panic on his face. "Sammy?"

"Hey, man," Sam said, a worried frown on his face. He ran a hand over Dean's head, gently feeling the bump, then lifted the edge of the cloth on Dean's side. "Oh god. We need to get him out of here!"

"You talking to Joe?" Dean asked.

"Joe? No, Jeff, remember him?" Sam said slowly.

"No, I forgot him in the last hour." He smirked at Sam, hoping to remove the look from his brother's face.

"How, Sam?" Jeff said, coming up beside Dean.

"We'll use the blanket like a stretcher. Give me a hand." Sam stood and grabbed the blanket by Dean's head and Jeff shifted to his feet. "Ready?" Sam said, looking down at him, Dean nodded. "On three. One, two, three."

The movement caused pain to throb through his body, centering in a hot ball of agony in his side. He closed his eyes, breathing slowly, trying to control the pain as best he could. A bump sent a shock-wave of almost unbearable pain through him, he groaned, unable to stop the noise. "I'm okay," he said as soon as he could.

"Yeah," Sam's reply was a strangled laugh.

"What's that?" Jeff said. "Oh my god, it's the bats!"

Dean heard them coming, the rush of wind, then the angry squeaks as the animals swarmed around them. Jeff cried out and stumbled, the blanket under Dean went taut. Dean opened his eyes, bats were swirling around them, obscuring everything, even Sam was swallowed up in the black cloud. Sharp claws tore at him, ripping at his skin, plucking at the blanket. Sam yelped in pain and suddenly Dean was falling, the impact of the ground was too much, there was an explosion of pain and nothing.

The scent of sagebrush and wood smoke crept into his brain as consciousness returned. He could hear soft voices over the sound of the fire and the calls of night creatures. At first he thought he was back in the vision, but one of the voices was familiar. Sam. His brother sounded worried, panic filtering into the tone. Dean tried to move, but stopped when pain flashed through his body. He heard the change in his breathing as he fought the pain.

"No, don't move," Sam said, putting a hand on his chest.

"Sam? You okay?" Dean tried to move again, there was pain in his brother's voice, he could hear it as clearly as if Sam had said it.

"Yeah, I'm okay. Don't move, Dean, please."

"Fine." He decided to settle for opening his eyes—that proved to be more of a challenge than he thought it would be, but finally managed it. Sam's face was covered with scratches. "You don't look okay."

Sam lifted a hand to his face. "It's not bad, Dean, the bats attacked and I got scratched."

"The bats attacked?"

"Yeah."

"Bats attacked?" He was stuck on that idea, in all the years he'd hunted, he'd never seen bats attack anyone, they usually went the other way.

"Something that looked like bats," Sam said softly. "I'm not sure they were actually bats. Some of them were, but not the ones that attacked us."

That sounded more like it. "Where am I?"

"One of the rock shelters. We thought it was better to not carry you to the house."

"It's not that far."

"Yes it is," Sam said, tears bright in his eyes.

"It's not bad, Sammy," Dean said gently.

"Not bad?" Sam huffed. "Fine, Dean, it's not bad."

Dean knew that tone all too well, Sam was stressed. "Do I hear a helicopter?"

"Yeah." Sam smiled. "Sorry, it's the only way to get you out quickly."

"And alive?"

"Dean..." Sam took a deep breath.

"Think they'll give me the good stuff?"

"What?"

"You know, the stuff that makes me fly?" He tried to laugh, the tightening muscles sent a shaft of agony into his side, he needed several deep breaths before he could speak again and hoped Sam wouldn't notice the involuntary tears leaking out of his eyes.

"I remember." Sam grinned and brushed the tears off Dean's face without comment. "There they are."

Dean followed his glance, he could see the flashing lights of the chopper as it jockeyed to land on the mesa. The helicopter was about a hundred feet off the ground when the engine burped and sputtered. The regular _thump_ of the blades changed, sounding irregular as the craft started to rise. The chopper suddenly swung out of sight, a moment later there was a huge explosion, a fireball blasting into the sky.

Dean took a deep breath and looked at Sam. "Was that the helicopter?"

"Yeah," Sam said quietly.

"It crashed?"

"Yeah."

"Oh." Dean tried for a smile. "Maybe you should move me to the house?"

**XXX**

Sam paced along the edge of the rock shelter, watching the fires in the distance. The helicopter crash site was starting to die down, just a soft glow against the night sky. Several members of the staff had gone to check for survivors, but hadn't found any. Another rescue team had tried to get in, but had retreated when their chopper had started losing altitude.

A small explosion sounded from the direction of the house, Sam watched the sparks flying upwards from the former dwelling. There wasn't much left of the structure, it had burned hot and fast. They'd been carrying Dean to the house when it had burst into flame, so they had retreated back to the rock shelter. All the first aid supplies for the dig had been in the house, as well as all Rich's papers and, according to Jeff, several important finds.

In desperation he'd gone to start the Impala to get Dean out, not sure about traversing the dirt roads in the dark, but he had to do something. Only the car refused to start. It didn't even turn over. Sam assumed it was the battery and Jeff had gone to get the keys for the last remaining dig vehicle—which hadn't started either. The electrical systems were dead. Shortly after that the cell phones, the satellite phone, the radio and all the flashlights had stopped working, the generator died and the only light left was from the fires and the four kerosene lanterns.

"Sam?" Dean said weakly.

Sam turned back and dropped down beside his brother. "What?"

"I'm thirsty."

"Okay." Sam slipped his hand behind Dean's head and lifted him so he could sip some water. "You have a fever."

"Yeah, I know. Can you check my side? It itches."

Sam pulled the blanket back and lifted the bandage off his brother's side. The wound was red and angry, it had been getting increasingly worse since they'd removed the poultice and cleaned the wound. Dean was starting to slip, Sam could see it in his eyes, pain fogged his awareness and he was starting to drift into delirium. He wasn't sure if he should risk another shot of morphine, Dean was obviously in pain, but their stash was running low and he had the feeling his brother would need it more as the night wore on. _Assuming he makes it through the night. _

"How is he?" Jeff asked, walking over from where he'd been talking to Rich.

"Great," Dean muttered.

"That wound doesn't look good." Jeff hesitated. "I..."

"What?" Sam said.

"The poultice that was on his side when we found him? I can duplicate it."

"You can?"

"My uncle taught me."

"Joe said it wasn't enough," Dean said.

"Joe?" Sam asked, Dean had already mentioned the name several times.

"Joe, you know, Joe."

"No, I don't know Joe, Dean."

"Yeah, he was in the cave with me."

Jeff gasped. "You saw him?"

"Saw who?" Sam snapped.

"We always called him Grandfather," Jeff said quietly. "We saw him once when I was a kid, or thought we did, sitting in the other rock shelter, he was only there for a moment."

"He showed me," Dean said.

"Showed you?" Sam looked at his brother, Dean's eyes were getting glassy as his fever climbed.

"Yeah." Dean swallowed. "Showed me."

"What did he show you?"

"How it was, Sammy. He said things were out of balance. We need to fix it."

"Fix what?" Sam put his hand on Dean's shoulder, to stop him from trying to sit up.

"What's here."

"Dean, you need to relax, try and sleep."

"Sam, he, we, I saw..." Dean's voice was starting to fade, his eyes closed. "We..."

"Dean?"

"Here, not feeling good."

"I know, Dean, hang on okay?"

"Trying."

"Jeff?" Rich called.

"Coming," he answered. "I'll be right back."

"He gone?" Dean asked quietly, still not opening his eyes.

"Yeah."

"Joe showed me, Sam, how it was when they came here. There was something in the canyon, he said, something evil."

"Did he tell you what it was?"

"No, I'm not sure he knew exactly, but it was bad," Dean said, his words starting to slur together.

"Do you think that's what's been causing the accidents?"

"Duh. Have to get rid of it."

"Yeah. How?"

"Don' know. Maybe..." Dean trailed off.

"What?"

"Wonder..."

"Dean, hey, come on."

"The sacri..." the words were barely a mumble.

"The sacrifices, Dean? What?"

"Maybe..." Dean took a deep breath and his body relaxed.

"Dean!" Sam reached for a pulse, it was there, faint, under his fingers. "Dean?" Sam took a deep breath, trying to stay calm, it wasn't working. He pulled the blankets tight around his brother's shoulders, and sighed. His brother didn't have much time. Panic was beginning to throb in time with Sam's heart. He had to do something, the problem was what? Salt and burn? Cleanse the place? He didn't even know what they were dealing with, and who was Joe? Dean got delusional with a fever, but someone had treated his wounds.

A scream echoed around the cliffs, a woman's voice raised in abject terror. Sam stood, trying to get an idea of where it had come from, the way sound bounced in the canyon, he wasn't sure, but he thought it came from the cluster of tents across from him. He could just make them out in the glow from a fire in front of them, then the fire was gone, swallowed up in a black cloud. The cloud was moving towards him, he could hear it now, the squeaking of hundreds of bats. The swarm was moving quickly, he heard Rich shout in surprise, then scream before he disappeared in the cloud. The bats were headed towards Sam now at high speed. He had just enough time to try and protect Dean from them before they descended, tearing at his body, the mass of them pressing him down as they dug at him. He tried to cover Dean's face, the animals pulled at his hand, trying to get to his brother.

Sam did his best to protect Dean, but there were too many of them. He was desperately tugging at the blankets, trying to pull them over Dean when something connected with the side of his head, there was a bright flash of pain, then everything disappeared as he collapsed into the dark.

_**To Be Continued**_

_A/N II: In celebration of Galen and Rob's birthday today, the first chapter of the sequel to The Legacy is available at my website muffymorrigan (dot) com._


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: Sorry this chapter is a day late. If any of you have an in with real life would you please tell it enough already? And if it behaves I will make it pie. Thanks to TraSan._

**Scream of the Butterfly**

**Chapter Six**

It was silent when Sam jerked into consciousness. The first light of dawn was lighting the eastern sky with bright red, bathing the cliffs in blood. There were still a few stars sparkling over head, a single wisp of bright cloud slashing across the sky. He was chilled, the cold seeping up from the ground, making the blood on his face ice cold. He'd been watching the cloud track slowly across the stars when he realized he was on his back. He wondered how and when that had happened.

"Sammy?" a distressed mumble from beside him brought him to full awareness in a heartbeat. "Sammy?" A cold, shaking hand was lying on his forehead.

"Dean?" Sam blinked and focused on Dean, his brother was kneeling beside him, his face sheet-white, blood trickling from scratches on his face. His brain caught up with everything else. "What are you doing?" Sam sat up and grabbed his brother's shoulders, ignoring a wave of dizziness and a throbbing ache in his head.

"You screamed," Dean said indistinctly as Sam guided him back to the blankets. "I think. Joe said you were hurt."

"I'm okay," Sam said,as he checked over his brother's injuries. _Oh god. _The wound on Dean's side was looking bad, very bad and his brother's leg was seriously swollen.

"You're bleeding."

"So are you." Sam hoped using Dean's "distract them" technique would work. "You shouldn't have gotten up."

"Joe said..." Dean focused glassy eyes on Sam. "He said they were back."

"Who's back?" Sam asked pulling the blanket over his brother. There were tears where it had covered Dean's head.

"The evil that was here, that walked when they arrived."

"What?" Sam frowned at him, that was a little poetic for Dean. The panic throbbing in his chest ramped up when the word "possession" crept into his head. That hadn't occurred to him until just this moment. He'd assumed Joe was a result of the fever. Dean got delusional with fevers, Sam still remembered the time Dean thought Sam had been kidnapped by pixies and had gone searching for him. Then there were the talking trees, the unicorn, the list went on and on. Possession hadn't been a worry, but that line, even for a delusional Dean... He was reaching for small container of holy water in his jacket pocket when he heard a groan. Looking up, he could see bodies stretched out on the ground, their clothing pale against the dark land.

"I'll be right back," he said, waiting for Dean to nod before running to where Rich lay. Sam turned the archaeologist over, checking for a pulse. The man was alive. Sam moved to Jeff, he was alive too, scratching marring his face, a dark bruise forming on his temple.

Jeff's eyes fluttered as Sam bent over him, the man blinked then focused on Sam. "What...? My god, is it getting light?"

"Yeah."

"Help me up," Jeff said, holding his hand out.

"Maybe you shouldn't move."

"Not a lot of choice, is there?"

"No, not really." Sam pulled Jeff onto his feet then steadied him for a moment.

"How bad is Rich hurt?"

"I don't know, I checked to make sure he was alive, but that's all. He's not the only one down," Sam said, gesturing to the bodies becoming more visible in the morning light.

"What's happening?" Jeff's voice reflected Sam's growing horror as they set out to check on the other members of the staff.

Two hours later, the rock shelters were full of dazed and injured workers. Rich regained consciousness and grumbled about lighting fires, but Jeff had directed the process and kept the fire rings outside the dig areas. Three people were seriously hurt, not including Dean, two were dead and one was beyond dead. Sam and Jeff had put the bodies in one of the tents and covered the tent with a heavy tarp, but the scavengers were still circling over-head and a line of ants had found their way in and were swarming over the bodies. Sam had no idea how the ants had gotten in, the zipper on the tent's door was functioning correctly, it was almost like they appeared from nowhere to consume the bodies.

Dean was getting worse, his fever rising, the wound beginning to show the first signs of a very serious infection and his injured ankle had turned an odd shade of greenish-purple. He slid between moments of lucidity and delirium, twice having conversations with people who weren't there, and once screaming in pain, clawing at his arm saying it was on fire.

Sam finally had the chance to sit back down beside his brother, the aches and pains of his own injuries beginning to make themselves known. He laid a hand on his brother's forehead—Dean's fever was still climbing. Jeff settled down across from him, starting a pot of coffee while Rich muttered direction to one of the few mobile staff members.

A small pop by where the ranch house had once stood signaled the destruction of another box of artifacts. Three had been destroyed since the sun had come up, they exploded in a ball of flames that burned so hot nothing could stop it. One of the fatalities had happened while a staff member had tried to move a box. It had blast apart and by the time they could get to him, there was nothing left but nearly fleshless charred bones.

"I was thinking about Scott," Jeff said as he pulled the coffee pot out of the fire.

"Scott?" Sam asked.

"The one who burned," Rich said his voice tight with grief. "Masters student, working on his thesis on pre-Anasazi settlements."

"What about him?" Sam tried to push the image of those burned remains out of his head.

"One of the burials we found, it had been burned, we thought it might have been the result of a cooking process, since the charring was more than surface deep."

"You think that body was like Scott?" Dean mumbled.

"Dean? You there?" Sam put his hand on his brother's arm.

"No, I'm talking in my sleep." The words were slurred together, but they made sense—at least to Sam. Rich and Jeff were frowning at him.

"Was the body like Scott?" Sam asked, translating Dean's mumble just in case.

"It might have been. We didn't think about it in that context, obviously," Jeff said.

"Obviously," Rich echoed.

"Egg heads," Dean muttered, then was quiet.

"But if it was like Scott what would it mean?" Rich asked, glancing at Jeff.

"I don't know," Jeff answered.

"What have I done?" Rich said desperately.

"This isn't your fault, Rich," Jeff said gently.

"What was in the boxes that were destroyed?" Sam said.

"Artifacts."

"Yeah, but what kind?" An idea was beginning to form.

"Boxes from three and five, I think," Jeff offered.

"Three and five?" Rich said. "Those are burials, one of them from next to the mummy. I know one had several points, a bones, seven beads and two of those micro-petroglyphs we found."

"Micro-petroglyphs?"

"Yes, we found several, small stones with glyphs pecked into them, completely out of place here, of course."

"What was on them?"

"Spirals, a possible sun image and what could have been a lunar calendar."

"Wow, vague much," Dean mumbled.

"Dean?" Sam squeezed Dean's arm.

"Listening," his brother replied.

"We had four that were surface finds up along the mesa. One on its own and then three by the metates at the edge of the cliff."

"We don't think they date from the same time period, it's all part of the weird overlaps we have at this site."

"Like the mammoth bones and the pottery?" Sam said. Movement at the top of the cliff caught his eye and he tracked the shadow slipping along the edge of the mesa.

"Yeah, and the mummy and the burials," Jeff added.

"Huh. I'll be right back," Sam said, giving Den a pat on the chest, then standing. He walked along the wall of the rock shelter, eyes on the ground, not even sure what he was looking for—or even why he was looking. When he reached the point where Jeff had been working the night before—or was it two nights?—Sam squatted down and looking at the area he'd excavated. Some of the objects were still in situ, the femur that had been under the rock face was missing, a dark mark where it had been. Glancing around for any other disturbance, Sam got up and walked further, skirting the mouth of the cave and heading towards the rock shelter that had several finds in it.

He stopped and leaned against the cliff, the warmth of the rock seeping through his clothes and easing an ache in his shoulders. The pieces were beginning to come together, he just wasn't sure what it meant. He watched the circling buzzards, letting his mind wander from piece to piece. Part of it still felt almost like a haunting, but bones were being burned right and left, so who was haunting the place? Dean's disappearance, along with the cave, had to be part of it. In one of his brief moments of actual awareness, Dean had said something about the sacrifices, but hadn't clarified what he meant before he'd started mumbling about Joe and how they needed to stop it and help to fix it and bring it back into balance.

What did that mean?

He shifted his gaze from the scavengers to the ground, his eye following the progress of a stink beetle as it wandered through the sparse vegetation. It waddled under a sagebrush bush and out the other side, detouring around a smooth black stone. Sam watched it a moment longer, but his eyes were drawn back to the stone. It looked a lot like the one he'd seen just as the truck exploded while they were looking for his brother. He picked it up and turned it over, it was smooth on one side, almost like it have been polished, but on the other side was a spiral made up of thirteen distinct holes. Sam ran his thumb over it. It must be one of the mirco-petroglyphs.

He was considering putting it back, regretting disturbing an archaeological site, when a roar from behind him caused him to turn towards the cave entrance. A cloud of bats boiled out, heading straight towards him, his mind barely having a chance to register the movement before they were on him, swarming around him like a mad whirlwind.

They didn't touch him.

Sam stood, the stone clutched in his hand, as the angry creatures whirled around him, the rustling of their wings and their furious squeaks filling the air around him, until, with a final pass, they disappeared. One moment they were there, the next gone as if they hadn't existed at all. Sam looked down at the rock he was holding, it was starting to get warm. He dropped it with a gasp and ran, he made it to the rock shelter where Dean was before it exploded, the tiny shards of rock blasting apart. Sam shielded his brother from the flying shards.

"Have to fix it," Dean slurred when Sam pushed himself off his brother.

"Fix what?"

"Out of balance, Sammy, have to fix it."

"How, Dean?"

"Joe protected his people."

"Joe?" Sam huffed. Great, now his brother's delusions were... What if it wasn't? Someone had tended his wounds, lit the fire in the cave. Jeff said there had been a spirit here. "Jeff?"

"Yeah, Sam?"

"You said you saw a spirit?"

"Yes, Grandfather."

"Joe," Dean corrected.

"When was the last time you saw him?" Sam asked, meeting the other's eyes, knowing there was more there.

"Not for a couple of months," Jeff admitted.

"You saw a ghost? And didn't mention it?" Rich demanded.

"Yes."

"Why?" Rich snapped.

"I hoped he would help stop the developers, help drive them away if they came."

"You were working with him?" Sam asked incredulously, things were starting to make sense.

"I hoped to."

"But?" Dean muttered.

"He wouldn't come, I tried to tell him what was happening, but it's like he didn't want to help."

"Things would remain in balance," Dean said dreamily.

"What happened?" Sam looked at his brother, then back at Jeff.

"I'm not sure, he disappeared, the next day the accidents started."

"Told you, protector." Dean smirked.

"But you saw him," Sam pointed out.

"Only in the cave, safe there."

"It's safe?"

"Where the fire was, Joe told me it was safe," Dean said, his glassy eyes focused on Sam's face.

Sam stared at his brother, not really seeing him as he thought about what was happening. The picture he'd started to get was blown apart, and something else replaced it. Was that the answer? He ran over the facts again, what they'd been told when they arrived and the events since. If he wasn't right, he was close.

A sudden gust of wind brought his attention back. He looked up, a dark storm cloud was forming over the cliffs. He heard Jeff said it looked like a bad squall when the reality of what it was hit Sam. He stood. _Oh god. _

"Get everyone into the cave! Back as far as they can go, back where we found Dean. Don't let them stop till they get there!" he shouted. Sam bent over Dean. "I've got to get you back there."

"That's going to hurt."

"Yeah." Sam dragged his brother onto his feet, watching the others race into the cave in front of him.

The squall was approaching fast, the wind sounding like a monsters roar. Sam cast a wild glance behind him at the wall of black racing across the canyon, as he ran towards the cave. The bats swirled around him as he ran, he could hear the others shouting from inside the cave as they tried to get back the swarming creatures. He nearly stopped when he heard Dean cry out in pain.

But he kept going, aware of that approaching cloud behind him, the howling wind whipping around the cliffs.

It all made sense, he knew what he needed to do.

The black wall started to engulf him, the entrance to the cave close, but still it felt like it was miles away.

He knew what he needed to do.

But it was too late.

_**To Be Continued**_

_A/N II: My update next week might be late, I am going to the Con in Chicago and there is a good chance I will squee myself into a squeeful coma which I will rouse from with only brief, pathetic squees. If anyone is going to be there, I would love the chance to meet you!_


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N: I am sorry I am late on this. I squeed myself into such a squeed-out place I managed to contract the flu, and that put me behind on everything! I am catching up now, with chapters and replies! Thank you everyone for reading and reviewing! Thank you to TraSan_

_A/N II: In the last chapter I mentioned the micro-petroglyphs, they have been found in the Mohave Valley of Arizona, but not in New Mexico. _

**Scream of the Butterfly**

**Chapter Seven**

There was a blaze of pain, there was no other way to describe it. Dean held onto the tiny shred of consciousness he had left as Sam lifted him up so they could run for the cave and safety. He couldn't see what was behind them that had his brother's hands sweating and his face white with fear, but it was bad. Sam stumbled and agony shot through Dean.

"Sorry," Sam said breathlessly.

Dean tried to nod, hoping Sam would understand. He was entirely focused on not passing out. His dead weight would slow Sam, and he knew his brother would never leave him. _We're stupid that way. _Wind started whipping around them, cold air taking his breath away as it suddenly grew dark. Acid like rain pelted his head and hands. "Leave me," Dean groaned, no words actually came out, or Sam ignored him, because his brother just tightened his grip and lifted more of Dean's weight onto himself.

They made it to the cave.

He sensed the change in the light and air as they passed the threshold. As soon as they had taken a step inside the rock walls, Dean smelled sage smoke, it eddied around him filling his senses with the pungent scent. He could hear them chanting, singing by the fire, lifting his head, he could see the shadows cast by the flames as he walked towards where they were sitting by the fire.

They came forward and touched his head, pulling him the rest of the way to the group. One of them stopped in front of him, speaking softly, his hands weaving an intricate pattern in the air. Dean nodded, and bowed his head. Hands touched his shoulders, pain tracing through his body and he fell, convulsing on the ground, fire tracing through his body. Dark shadows filled the air above him, filled him and he accepted them and fought them. Stones were laid on his body, warm, then burning a path across his skin. Sage fogged the air.

The dark shadows were held back, Dean keeping them in check as they swirled around the shelter and tried to take the others away.

"Dean!" Sam said, his voice full of panic. "Dean!" A rough hand was shaking him.

Dean managed to get his eyes to open, he was in the cave, not out in the rock shelter, and Sam was bending over him, a panicked frown curling between his brows. Dean blinked, the vision falling away. There was a roaring in the distance, closer by he could hear the hushed tones of conversation.

"Dean?" Sam said again, his hand resting on Dean's chest.

"Hey," Dean whispered. His throat ached, the pain in his side and leg throbbing in time with his heart.

"You back?" Relief flooded Sam's face.

"Back?" Dean moved his eyes.

"Yeah."

"What happened?" Dean asked, or at least close enough that Sam understood him.

"You..." Sam took a deep breath. "When we got in the cave, you..."

"Sammy?"

His brother shook his head, and ran a hand through his hair. "We're back where we found you."

"Good, safe. What?"

"The storm, it blew into the cave, the bats were with it, but they stopped when we got here. I can see them, but it's like there's a wall."

"See, safe." He tried for a smirk, Sam smiled wanly back. "I'm okay, Sammy."

"Yeah." Sam swallowed.

"He walks with you, Dean," Joe said, appearing behind Sam. "He knows you are dying."

"Am I?" Dean asked Joe.

"Dean? Who are you talking to?" Sam looked around the cave.

"Yes, you are." Joe knelt down beside Dean, he had a bowl in his hands.

"If I die, can I help fix it?"

"Dean? What's going on?" Panic pulsed through his brother's voice.

"I don't know, Dean. Perhaps."

"Dean!"

"You aren't sure?" Dean said.

"No," Joe answered.

"Will I die anyway?"

"I think so," Joe said softly.

"Dean! What the hell is going on?" Sam was frantic, he had a death grip on Dean's arm.

"Talking to Joe."

"There's no one here," Sam said desperately.

"Tell me what I need to do," Dean said softly.

"I will prepare it for you," Joe said, standing. "He that walks with you will not want it."

"I know." Dean sighed. "Will it save him?"

"Sammy?" Joe said.

"Yes, Sammy."

"Oh no, Dean, no way." Sam's grip tightened.

"Thank you," Dean said to Joe.

"You will restore the balance, it is I who should thank you." Joe stood and disappeared.

Dean focused back on his brother when Joe was gone. "Sammy..."

"No, Dean." Sam's eyes sparkled with tears. "Please give me a chance first."

"I'm dying," he said bluntly, fever and pain taking away his usual care. "I can help this way."

"I know what I need to do, Dean, please give me a chance."

There was something about the look on Sam's face that blasted Dean's calm acceptance away. "What are you planning?"

"I have to get out of here, then into town."

"You'll be killed!" Dean struggled to sit up, Sam pushed him down with a hand on his chest.

"Give me a chance, Dean, please?" Sam pulled out the secret weapon and hit Dean with it full blast, complete with tears in his eyes. "If I don't make it..."

"Sammy..."

"Let me try," Sam whispered. "If it were me, you'd at least try."

"Sam," Dean paused and took a breath, pain moving through him. "Okay, I'm not sure how long I can give you."

"I know, Dean, just try."

"I will."

"Thank you."

"Everyone's thanking me," Dean grumbled.

"What?"

"Never mind, don't be too long."

"I won't." Sam met his eyes for a moment, his hand resting over Dean's heart, then he stood and strode out of Dean's line of sight.

**XXX**

The smell of the fire filled the cave as Sam walked to where Jeff and Rich were sitting, leaning against the rock wall. Dean's delirium was getting worse and his admittance of how bad things were had panic bordering on terror slamming against Sam's heart. He knew he needed to do something and soon. Dean believed his death would fix things, and Sam knew just how determined his brother could be. _One of these days, Dean, I'm going to kill you for that sort of thing._

"How's Dean?" Rich asked as Sam approached.

"Not good." Sam squatted down in front of them. "I have to get out of here and into town."

"How? You can't get past that storm and the bats," Jeff said, gesturing to where the winds raged against an invisible wall.

"There has to be a way," Sam insisted, desperation curling through him.

"Do you really think you can get another rescue copter in here?" Rich said, frowning at Sam.

"What? No, that's not why I need to go."

"Then why?"

"I can help you, Sammy," a soft voice said. Sam looked up, there was no one there.

"What?" Sam answered the voice.

"There is a way out, I can show you. You will have to walk a path that hasn't been used since we were here."

"Where is it?" Sam stood.

"Sam? Who're you talking to?" Rich said, looking up at him.

"Grandfather?" Jeff whispered. "Is he here?"

"You understand what needs to be done?" the voice asked.

"Yes," Sam confirmed.

"Sam?" Jeff grabbed his arm. "What's going on?"

"He said he can show me a way out," Sam said, hoping he wasn't hallucinating. Part of him wondered if maybe he'd been hurt and was in the same condition as Dean, talking to spirits, seeing things that didn't exist. The morbid thought had barely formed before he shook it off.

"There's only one way out," Rich said.

"Follow me," the voice said and a tiny wisp of light, smoke lit from the inside, drifted into the dark of the cave.

"I'm coming with you," Jeff said, falling in beside Sam.

Sam nodded and pulled out his flashlight, shining it into the dark ahead of them. The cave swallowed the light, giving fleeting impressions of the walls as they walked on. The corridor narrow, Sam had to drop onto his hands and knees, then stretch out full length to wiggle through the tiny space. For a heart-stopping moment, he thought he was trapped, his shoulders too wide to fit through the opening, but he managed to slide one shoulder through then the other and the passage started widening again. He could hear Jeff struggling to get through behind him.

The wisp stopped and waited until Sam reached an area big enough to stand up in. Jeff joined him a moment later, panting from exertion. While they rested for a moment, Sam cast his light around the walls of the cavern they were in, stopping when the beam moved across shapes painted on the walls.

"My god," Jeff said, walking towards the wall. He stretched out a reverent hand, but stopped short of touching the pictures. "I might be having an archaeological orgasm," he said with a chuckle.

"What?" Sam stepped over to stand beside him, focusing the flashlight on the wall. There were squares, circles, spirals, something that could be a big horn sheep, a stick figure with a headdress and spear, and several squares divided into a checkerboard.

"This, here, I've never seen anything like it," Jeff breathed, then reached for the flashlight, pulling it out of Sam's hand so he could pace around the cavern. "There's a hearth here," he said, the light on the ground, shadows coursing across his face. The light moved to the other wall. "More pictographs." The beam shifted. "What's that?" Jeff stretched out his hand, then snatched it back like it had been burned, a yelp of pain escaping his lips.

"Jeff?" Sam walked carefully over to the archaeologist.

"It looks like a burned offering," Jeff said, pointing at several bones on the floor.

"Offering? Or victim?" Sam asked.

"We have no time for this, Sammy, if you want to save Dean," the voice said, light flickering through the wisp. "You must go now, and go quickly."

"Go?" Sam said.

"Yes, follow me." The wisp moved into the cavern, waiting impatiently in the distance. Sam grabbed the flashlight from Jeff and made his way across the cavern, stepping around a huge hole in the ground. He heard Jeff mutter "man made," from behind him, but ignored the other and followed the wisp.

He had no idea how long they'd been moving, twisting and turning in the dark, the beam of the flashlight a tiny pool of light, of sanity, in what felt like never ending night. They rounded a corner and a warm glow filled the cavern, another turn and sunlight filled the cave. Sam ran towards the opening, stopping as he reached the edge.

He was on a ledge, high above the ground. Jeff came out behind him and stood looking down the seemingly sheer wall. Sam's heart fell, they had no rope, no way to get down to the dirt road snaking through the dry river bed below. He looked to his right, they were on the other side of the mouth of the canyon where the dig had been. A black cloud obscured the view, the swirling storm completely covering the box canyon. _Oh, god, Dean. _

"Look!" Jeff was pointing at something to the left of the ledge.

"What?"

"Hand holds!" Jeff walked over and crouched down to get a better look. "They're like the ones at the dig—and at Chaco and Canyon De Chelly. God." He stood and looked at Sam. "I'd hate to ruin them."

"Seriously? You've got to be kidding me," Sam said, sounding a lot like his brother.

"What? Oh, sorry, archaeological fervor," Jeff said sheepishly.

"It's okay." Sam looked at the holds carved into the cliff face. He took a deep breath, they looked shallow and it was a long way down to the ground. "I'll go first," Sam said, sitting down and easing a foot into one of the holes cut in the rock. He let his leg take the weight and swung out onto the cliff face. Jeff went pale and Sam looked away, his eyes fixed on the rock in front of him.

Once he had his hands firmly tucked into a hold, he pulled one foot free and slid it down, searching for another cut. He found one, and shifted lower, moving his hands carefully, ignoring the sweat pouring over his face and stinging in his eyes. He nearly panicked as he passed one point and realized he hadn't had his foot in the cut, but tucked into a crack on the wall, pieces of stone peeling away from it like flaking skin. Sam swallowed the panic and kept moving, focused on the rock or Jeff's descent as he inched down the cliff. When his foot came into contact with the ground, his knees buckled in relief. He looked back up at the ledge he'd started from and blinked. _I came that far? _The mouth of the cave was nearly at the top of the cliff. Jeff dropped to the ground beside him, taking deep breaths, his hands shaking.

"I hate free-climbing," Jeff said.

"I've never done it," Sam said, taking a shaky breath, still staring at the mouth of the cave high above him.

"Never?"

"No." Sam pushed himself up and looked down the road. "How far is it to town from here?" It had seemed like hundreds of miles listening to Dean complain about damage to the Impala. _Hang on, Dean. _

"Where are we going?"

"The museum," Sam said.

"The museum?"

"Yeah, we need to get to that mummy you found." Sam pulled off his button-down shirt and tied it around his waist, wishing they had some water with them.

"The mummy?" Jeff blinked. "My—our mummy?" he stammered.

"Yeah, that one," Sam huffed. "How far?"

"About fifteen miles to the highway."

"Fifteen miles? That's not too far."

"Too far to what?"

Sam glanced from Jeff to the road winding ahead of him. "Too far to run."

"Run?"

"Run," Sam said, turning away.

"Why?"

"I know how to stop it, Jeff." Sam started to move down the road.

"I'm sorry, Sam," Jeff said quietly. Sam turned back towards the archaeologist, the man had a small gun leveled at Sam's chest. "I can't let you do that."

_**To Be Continued**_


	8. Chapter 8

_A/N: Sorry I've been missing. My life has become a soap opera written by someone fired from the CW I swear. One Gossip Vampire Place Hill Diaries is in full swing, but I am hope it is going on hiatus and I can get back to writing. My time is all over the place, so I am focusing on getting the chapters out. I will get to all the reviews, I promise. Let me say THANK YOU HUGE HUG to you all, and thank you for your patience. I am back to posting regularly! So look for Gifts, Spot and Forest all coming soon._

**Scream of the Butterfly**

**Chapter Eight**

The black cloud blocking the box canyon from view was getting thicker, the roar that accompanied it getting louder, booming around Sam with a physical force. The sun was beating down mercilessly, reflecting dully off of the cloud as if even the sun couldn't penetrate the evil it represented. Sam was sweating, the trickles on his scalp feeling like insects crawling through his hair. Of course, the sweat had nothing to do with the sun and everything to do with his need to move, to save Dean and the fact it was being stopped by Jeff and the gun the man had leveled at Sam's chest.

"What the hell are you doing?" Sam snapped, eyeing the gun, wondering how experienced Jeff was with the weapon and gauging his chances of getting it out of his hands before he fired.

"I can't let you, Sam, I'm sorry, but I can't," Jeff said carefully, shifting the gun nervously.

"Can't let me what?" Sam moved his weight to his right foot, preparing to tackle Jeff.

"I can't let you destroy the mummy."

"Destroy?"

"Yes, didn't Dean say something about burning the bones?" Jeff frowned when Sam took a breath. "Don't deny it, Sam, I heard you guys."

"You did, it's what we usually do."

"And you are not destroying the mummy."

"No, I'm not."

"Right. What?"

"I don't want to destroy it, Jeff, I want to bring it back."

"What?" The gun lowered fractionally. "You want to what?"

"Bring it back, the mummy was the guardian Dean was talking about. It has to be! We have to bring it back so it can protect the canyon from those things," Sam said, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the black cloud growing slowly into the sky.

"You want to bring it back?" Jeff said stupidly.

"Yeah, and fast."

"You're not shitting me?" The gun dropped a little further.

Sam huffed. "No, I'm not." He waited a second longer and moved, slamming into Jeff and driving him to the ground, twisting the gun out of his hand as they dropped. Sam scrambled up and held the gun at his side. "I need to go."

"Wait, Sam," Jeff said as he stood. "I'll help."

"Uh huh."

"I will, I want to see the mummy back, safe where it belongs."

Sam weighed his options, getting to the mummy would be easier with Jeff's help, he just didn't trust the man. Sam unconsciously rubbed his chest where the muzzle had been aimed. After a moment, he nodded. He didn't trust him, but he might need help to save Dean. "Let's go." Sam turned and started jogging down the dirt road, running over calculations in his head. Assuming he could keep up this speed, he could make it into town in an hour or less. He chuckled bitterly, it was a long way and the sand on the road was harder to run in than he'd thought. His world narrowed to a single point of focus, getting down the road, pushing through the pain to get to town and save Dean.

"Sam!" Jeff called an eternity later, Sam ignored him and kept on. "Sam!" A hand fastened on his arm, tugging him to a stop. Sam turned on Jeff with a snarl. "Wait a minute."

"We don't have time." Sam yanked his arm away and turned to go.

"Would you wait!" Jeff snapped.

"What?" Sam growled dangerously.

"Listen!" Jeff said.

"Listen to..." Sam stopped. He heard it, now, too. "Thank god," he breathed a sigh of relief as an pickup bounced into view.

"You need a ride?" the driver said as he pulled to a stop beside them.

"We're going into Gallup," Jeff said with an easy smile.

"I'm headed that way, hop in," he said, leaning across the seat and opening the passenger door.

"Thanks." Jeff slid into the middle of the bench seat and Sam climbed in beside him.

"You're Mary Yazzie's son, aren't you?" The man put the car into gear.

"I am," Jeff confirmed with a smile.

"I'm Arnold Yellowhair. I just moved back to the Res. My daughter lives in California and she wanted me to come out and stay with her after my wife died, and I did, but I missed home too much. So, I came back, got a job at the refinery and started looking for a place to buy. I've been staying in the housing by the refinery, but I want to move back out here. I was planning on checking out a piece of property, but there was a storm coming and I didn't want to get caught in the wash in the rain."

Sam listened to the man ramble, not really paying attention. It seemed like once he got started there was no stopping him. Jeff tried to get a word in, but Yellowhair just kept talking. After five minutes, Sam was sure he knew almost everything about the man, including the size of his shoes. Sam watched the scenery going by, counting the seconds, wondering if his brother was still alive. He tapped his knee in frustration. It was taking too long.

"Hang on!" Yellowhair shouted. Sam looked out the windshield in time to see the massive wall of a cliff racing towards them.

**XXX**

The smell of wood smoke surrounded Dean, at the very edge of his awareness he could detect the acrid scent of sage. They were waiting for him, he knew, waiting for him to step into his place as their protector. Dean sighed, listening to the angry squeaking of bats and the rushing roar of the wind outside their haven. Something slammed into him, sending a spike of pain into his body, Dean opened his eyes, a creature that resembled a bat was pulling itself along his torso, inching towards his head. "Get off!" Dean shouted, trying to brush it off with his hand. It clung to him, tiny claws piercing this skin. "Hey?" he called trying to dislodge the bat. "Get it off!"

"Dean?" Rich bent over him, closing his hand over the creature and tugging on it. It squeaked and held on tighter. "Stupid little piece of crap," he said and yanked—the creature shrieked in rage and dug in, its tiny teeth heading for Rich's hand. "No you don't." He pulled again and it broke free, it nipped his finger and disappeared over their heads.

"Thanks," Dean said. "Sam?"

"They've been gone more than an hour."

"Too long," Dean whispered. He was running out of time—they all were.

"It will take time to get into town, Dean."

"I know." Dean saw Joe over Rich's shoulder. "Is it time?" he asked Joe. The calm he'd felt before was back, pressing him to make this offer. Sam being gone made it easy. Part of him wondered at that choice, it really didn't feel right, the rest ignored the small voice and focused on Joe.

"What are you talking about?" Rich frowned.

"I'm not sure we can wait for Sammy," Joe said gently. "It takes time to prepare you, and they are coming soon, they will destroy everything and everyone here, and if they get loose..."

"I understand," Dean assured him. "Will you tell Sam I said goodbye?"

"Dean? What's going on?" Rich sounded frantic.

"I will, Dean," Joe answered. "Are you ready?"

"Yeah," Dean said calmly.

"Good." Joe stepped forward with a bowl in his hands.

"Who the hell?" Rich stood, putting himself in front of Dean. Joe reached out and touched Rich, he recoiled as if he'd been punched, gasping for breath. One of the students ran over and supported him with a hand under his arm. "Stop him!" Rich gasped.

Joe knelt beside Dean and held the bowl to his lip. The small voice inside of Dean was screaming "NO!" at the top of its lungs. "Maybe I should... Sam..." Dean began, Joe stopped him with a gentle hand.

"Sammy will understand." Joe tipped the liquid into Dean's mouth and started singing, the chant filling the cave and the scent of sage smoke grew stronger until it obscured everything.

**XXX**

Sam reacted without thinking. As soon as his brain registered the mass of stone rushing at him, he reached across the cab and wrenched the steering wheel to the right. The wheels fought the turn, there was something there, trying to force the truck back onto its path into the wall. Sam held on, grabbing onto the wheel with both hands and shouting for Jeff to help. The cliff continued to race towards them, a bend in the rock wall aiding whatever it was trying to destroy them. Sam watched as the wall got closer and closer—and the truck slipped by, the driver's side mirror tearing off on an outcrop of rock. Yellowhair slammed on the brakes right before they plunged off the road and into dry stream bed cut along the edge of the cliff.

They sat in silence for several long minutes, before Yellowhair looked over at Sam. "Something you two want to tell me?"

"What do you mean?" Sam asked, running a shaking hand through his hair.

"Like you don't know," Yellowhair snorted as he pulled onto the dirt road again. He turned on the radio, a commercial for a local restaurant ended and the main broadcast began—at least Sam assumed it was, the announcer was speaking Navajo. He caught a word here and there, there were English words interspersed throughout the rapid-fire narration, one excited burst ended with the word "touchdown."

"I remember when I was a boy," Yellowhair said, talking over the announcer's pitch for an insurance company, "we would come to these canyons with our goats. My great-grandmother said we had to be careful, there were things here that might harm us. She believed a lot of things I didn't—at least not then—I thought she was old-fashioned and a little crazy." He paused and glanced over at them, before focusing on the road. "Since I got back, I've heard things. You're working at the dig, there are developers who want to put a road through here and disrupt things."

The words started to sink into Sam's brain, he turned so he could see Yellowhair clearly. "What have you heard?"

"Things have been happening by the old ranch house, and we all heard the explosions, sound carries out here, and now there is a storm gathered over the canyon. Worst one I've ever seen and something tells me it's not a normal storm, it's the kind that takes life and swallows the earth." Yellowhair turned down the road that led under the railroad bridge and onto the highway. "We had a storm like that back in the Seventies. Black clouds, wiped everything in a three mile area out."

"Yeah, I remember reading about that," Jeff said. "It destroyed a..." He stopped his eyes going wide.

"A dig?" Sam finished for him.

"Yeah, an important pre-Anasazi site. A storm pretty much ruined everything, then a fire finished the job. One of the archaeologist disappeared, they never found him. Shortly after he disappeared the storms and fire just blew out."

"Like your dig?" Sam asked, understanding what Dean had offered to Joe.

"God, I hope not," Jeff said quietly.

"What?"

"That area is closed now, people around it were dying slowly, burns and fast growing cancers. It's hot," Yellowhair said.

"Hot?" Sam frowned in confusion.

"Radioactive, there's uranium out there, the storms and fire exposed it."

"Radioactive?"

"Yeah."

"At least that's what they told us," Yellowhair said. "It was the only explanation for what was happening,"

"You don't think that's it?" Sam asked.

"No, there are stories of that sickness before, stories of how the ancient ones came to take things from the people."

"They found uranium," Jeff insisted.

"Of course they did!" Yellowhair snapped. "And there are places where they are mining that poison! Only to find, once it is off these lands there is nothing in it! And it's killing us, and will continue, because it is not the rocks that are wrong, it is the ancient enemies. They drove the things underground, not away as they should. We need our protectors, the old ones, it's why we don't touch burials why we leave them where they are! Some were sacrificed to protect us."

"But the missing archaeologist probably became a sacrifice," Sam said thoughtfully. _And Dean, Oh god, Dean what are you doing?_

"It's not enough," Yellowhair said simply. "Where are you going in town?"

"What?" Sam blinked at the change in conversation, but they were on the highway heading towards Gallup.

"The new museum," Jeff said.

"I'll take you there, it's close to this end of town. They're closed today." Yellowhair smiled, and turned off the highway, heading up a steep hill.

"I have a key," Jeff said.

An adobe building sat at the top of the hill, Yellowhair pulling into thee parking lot at the back, the building seemed deserted. Sam and Jeff got out and Jeff dug a set of keys out of his pocket. He led the way to the back door and opened it. Stepping in, Sam could smell a musty smell of decay, old bones still giving off the scent of death. He followed Jeff into a storeroom, there was a bank of drawers against one wall, the lower ones looking more like morgue drawers than anything. Jeff walked to one and opened it. A wrapped bundle was nestled inside. Jeff carefully lifted the sheet covering it, then gasped stumbling away from the drawer, his face white with horror, the sheet settling back in place.

"What is it?" Sam asked, concerned.

"How? My god, how?"

"What is it?"

"Look, it's Sam, oh god," he whispered, terror pulsing through his voice. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Jeff seemed caught in a loop.

Sam walked to the drawer and lifted the sheet, staring in horror at the mummy. "No, it can't be. NO!" he shouted in denial. "NO!"

_**To Be Continued**_

_A/N II: There are uranium deposits on the Navajo Reservation and sadly, illness has resulted. _


	9. Chapter 9

_A/N: Over-thinking is my worst enemy. I have been angsting and angsting over this chapter. I wrote he beginning about seven times and I got to a point and Sam would not move. He just stood there, glaring at me. I finally listened to what he wanted, thanks to some helpful poking from TraSan, Merisha and Tree. Thank you all for sticking with me on this one and thank you to Merisha and TraSan. There is a lurking movie quote, for those geeks out there to find. _

_A/N II: No bats were harmed in the writing of this chapter, only bat-like creatures with evil intent. (Remember you asked for bats, Supernaturalbuffy!)_

**Scream of the Butterfly**

**Chapter Nine**

The scent of old bones, decaying flesh and dust was filling the air, the smell intensifying the horror threatening to overwhelm Sam. His eyes were riveted to the ancient mummy in front of him. There were faint traces of something red smeared over the dried skin, adding dark smears to the body. It was curled in a fetal position, laying on its left side, its hand placed in front of it. The skin was plastered to the bones, the flesh having been dried over the many centuries it was buried. The lack of flesh distorted the features, but not enough, not nearly enough because... _No, god, please, no._

It was Dean. Then it wasn't. Sam blinked wondering if he'd imagined it, his breath hitching painfully.

"I'm so sorry, Sam," Jeff whispered, staring in horror at the mummy.

Sam glanced around the room, wondering the best way to transport the mummy back to the site. He didn't want to look down and find out he really had seen his brother in the desiccated flesh in front of him. He spotted a brown tarp tucked in one corner, walked over and grabbed it, hoping that, with the blanket, it would be enough to get the body back safely. There was no way he and Jeff could carry the huge wooden box all the way back to the dig.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Jeff's litany continued.

The words trickled into Sam's brain. "Sorry? What do you have to be sorry for?" He turned on the man. "What did you do?"

"I... Sam, I'm sorry."

"What did you do?" Sam asked, feeling desperation and worry starting to boil onto something else.

Jeff was shaking his head, caught in a repetition of "sorry," completely unaware of Sam's growing anger.

"What did you do?" Sam demanded and grabbed the other man, tossing him against the shelves on the far side of the room. "What did you do?" He shook Jeff hard enough to slam the man's head against the shelves.

"I didn't know this would happen, Sam!"

"What did you do?" Sam's voice slid into an icy rage.

"I..." Jeff gasped as Sam shook him again, his fists white knuckled in Jeff's shirt. "Sam, I..." He took a breath. "I didn't know!"

"Didn't know what?" The rage had turned into something else, calm, collected. Dean had once called it "scary Sammy mode."

"That this would happen!" Jeff hung limp in Sam's hands. "I'm so sorry."

"Jeff," Sam growled. He closed his eyes, trying to regain control, this wasn't helping. Taking a slow breath, he opened his eyes and met Jeff's terrified look. "What?"

"I'm sorry."

"What's going on?" Yellowhair asked from the door. "Stinks in here." He walked casually over to Sam and Jeff and laid a hand on Sam's arm. There was more strength in the man's hand than his appearance let on, and he tightened his hand enough to make Sam release his hold on the archaeologist.

"I didn't know." Jeff was close to sobbing.

"Know what?" Yellowhair said, looking from Jeff to Sam.

"That this would happen," Jeff said.

"That what would happen?"

"This! All of it! We tried to stop them!"

"Wait," Sam said, holding up his hand. "Stop what?"

"Destroying the site!"

"What did you do?" Sam asked.

"Sabotage?" Yellowhair said mildly, his eyebrows up. "I heard about that. There was some at another site, a patch of private land up by Farmington. Group of locals claimed responsibility. They haven't caught the individuals, yet, but they are looking. They ruined a couple of bulldozers. Funny thing though..." He frowned.

"What?" Sam turned to him.

"Development was stopped anyway. They found some artifacts that were enough to order a halt on the project." Yellowhair was looking at Jeff with a steady appraising look.

"And we thought that would work this time! Nothing else had," Jeff said.

"Nothing else? The accidents! Did you do that?" Sam grabbed Jeff again.

"Not all of them."

"What accidents?" Yellowhair asked.

"The transit, I did that, and the rattlesnake, only little things! I swear! But nothing worked!" Jeff shouted, shoving Sam away. "I knew he was there! When none of the other finds worked, I 'found' the mummy, hoping it would stop everything, but it backfired."

"You're an archaeologist, Jeff," Sam said.

"I am, and I've worked on a lot of digs. Most without burials, they are rarer than people think, but usually things slow down, rather than speed up when human remains are found. That didn't happen. As soon as he was uncovered..." Jeff ran a shaky hand over his face. "Things started happening, the more we excavated, bad things. I was torn, I wanted to leave the body _in situ_, but Rich thought he would be safer here, and I agreed. I didn't know! I never realized, I mean there were stories, but I never thought they were..."

"True?" Sam asked.

"How could I?"

"Many of our young people don't believe in things beyond them, and even if they say they do, they don't really." Yellowhair sighed sadly. "Balance needs to be brought back."

"We need to get back," Sam said softly. _It's taking too long. _He turned back to the mummy and carefully wrapped the tarp around the body, a bone snapped somewhere under his hands and he winced, that fleeting glimpse of the mummy of Dean-not Dean gave him a connection to the body he didn't expect. Picking up the mummy, he cradled it gently against his chest and turned to the door, wondering how long it would take to run back with his burden.

"Wait," Yellowhair called when Sam was halfway out the door.

"It's taking too long," Sam said and kept going.

"Driving back would be faster than walking, don't you think?" Yellowhair caught up to Sam as he left the building.

"What?"

"I'll drive you back. You are returning him to his place, it will stop the illness and evil that is there. I want to help."

"Thank you." Sam followed the man to his vehicle and climbed in the bed of the pickup, unwilling to leave the bundle in the back where it could get damaged. Jeff stopped beside the truck for a moment, then climbed into the cab. Sam took a deep breath trying to calm himself, the archaeologist wasn't to blame for what had happened.

Yellowhair pulled out of the lot and headed back towards the site, taking the turn onto the dirt road far faster than Dean had in the Impala. _God, Dean..._ Sam knew they had to get the mummy back to the dig, but he hadn't really figured out how to accomplish that. Now that he had nothing to do but wait, he was getting worried about what would happen when they reached the canyon. The storm had been consuming the area when they'd left and it would have been getting worse while they were gone.

The fleeting resemblance to Dean was haunting him. Even for them, it was a stretch to believe he'd seen Dean in the mummy's face. That was a little beyond the scope of possible, but if he had, god, what did that mean? His brother had been mumbling about helping or asking if something would help. A realization hit Sam so hard he was sure his heart skipped a beat. _Dean, if you did what I think you might have done._ He'd waited until Sam was gone and then... And then what? _What did you do? _The fury he'd directed at Jeff was suddenly anger with his brother. Sam took a deep breath and pushed the emotion away, he needed a clear head to deal with what was coming.

He heard the slider window on the truck open. "Sam! Look!" Jeff shouted.

Sam turned so he could glance in the direction they were heading, blinking as dust blew into his eyes. Gray clouds were streaking across the bright brassy blue sky and curling over the red mesas like the claws of a rabid animal and ahead of them, the black mass was working towards them, slowly blocking the way with a dark wall. Something flashed out of the corner of his eye, Sam looked to his left just in time to see another small explosion against the cliff walls.

"Hurry!" Sam said urgently.

"Yes," Yellowhair answered calmly.

The truck lurched to the right, Sam was thrown across the bed, but managed to protect the bundle from harm as he hit the side of the truck and then slid to the back, slamming into the tailgate. He braced himself against it, with his feet jammed into the wheel wells. His new position let him see clearly what they were heading into, and it wasn't good. It looked like the canyon had been swallowed by the black clouds.

That's when he heard it, even over the rush of wind in his ears, the squeaking call of thousands upon thousands of bats. They were swirling at where the entrance into the box canyon had been, completely blocking the way.

**XXX **

The scent of sage smoke eddied around Dean, he could hear chanting voices slowly getting closer. His world was changing, the hard bed of the cave floor was different, sharp grass poked the skin of his back and sweat trickled over his scalp like the racing feet of insects. Opening his eyes, he looking up into a sky filled with more stars than he remembered ever seeing. The Milky Way was a bright slash across the sky, the fire beside Dean tossing sparks into the air to join the stars overhead.

"No," he whispered. "Wait."

"You are already here, Dean."

"Where?" Dean swiveled his head to see someone squatting beside him. The man had a necklace of beads, feather and teeth hanging around his neck, his face pained in red and black. "Joe?"

"Yes." He laid his hand on Dean's forehead, his touch surprisingly warm.

Dean heard the call of an animal hunting in the night, the call both familiar and foreign, maybe a wolf maybe something else. Whatever it was, it was on the hunt, its song—and that of its pack—echoed around him. He listened as their call grew excited, there was the scream of an animal in pain and the happy yipping of the pack as it finished its kill. Something trumpeted out in the night and the call of the wolf changed.

A dark cloud moved over Dean's head, the stars growing dark. An icy breeze whipped around him, chilling him. The people's chant altered, getting more intense, the notes almost desperate. Joe rose and nodded at a woman standing in front of the fire.

"No." Dean tried to move, but he couldn't. She walked over, a stone knife in her hand. "Wait, no." _Sam? Where are you?_

She knelt beside Dean and laid the flat of the blade against his stomach, his lips and his head. Visions began to swim in front of his eyes. Pain was flowing over him, pulling him under as he was turned onto his side. The fight was leaving him, torn away by something beyond his control. He could protect them, keep the evil away. "No," he whispered.

"Stop," Joe said quietly, his voice carrying a calm authority. He shifted Dean onto his back and looked into his eyes. "He who walks with you has a plan."

"What?"

"Sammy, he is almost here." Joe nodded and held up a hand. "We will wait."

_Oh, god, Sammy, what are you doing?_

**XXX**

Yellowhair stopped the pickup just before it hit the huge wall of black clouds. Sam stood up and was hit with a blast of wind that threw him out of the truck. He managed to twist so the mummy was protected as he landed on his back, the bundle slipping out of his grasp. There was a small glow by the left side of his head and he turned over quickly, narrowly avoiding the shards as a stone exploded. He got to his knees just as a cloud of bats swirled around him, their angry voices filling his ears as tiny claws began to tear at him. Ignoring the pain and the blood running over his face, Sam bent over the mummy, the attacks increased, until he was nearly blinded by the fury of the creatures. He picked up the bundle and held it close to his chest, trying to protect it from the frenzied attacks.

Lifting his head, he looked at the entrance to the canyon with despair. The way was blocked by the dark clouds and the ever increasing bat-like creatures. The things were diving at him, trying to keep him from moving. He ducked, trying to protect his eyes. Sam heard a noise and something swung through the air above him, the movement accompanied by the sound of small impacts on metal.

"Let's go," Yellowhair said grimly. Sam looked up, the man was armed with a shovel, the blade dripping with foul liquid.

"How?" Jeff was beside the Yellowhair, a jacket pulled over his head to protect him from the bats.

"We go," Yellowhair answered simply and started swinging the shovel like a scythe, cutting a swath through the creatures.

As they got closer to the black wall, the things stepped up their attacks, diving and swirling around them, trying to tug the bundle out of Sam's hands. He staggered under the assault, desperately trying to keep going and protect his eyes enough to see his way through. The black mass pulsed, sending out feelers along the cliffs. One of the bats slipped under Sam's protective arm and started in, holding on to the flesh of his neck with shark claws as it tried to bite at his face. He grabbed it and tore it away, blood trickling down his neck as the attacking creatures shrieked in triumph and moved in for the kill. The dull _thuds _of Yellowhair's shovel impacting the bodies increased.

"Help him!" Yellowhair shouted over the cacophony. "Do it!"

Sam had no idea what was going on, but a hand closed over his arm and tugged. Sam glanced up long enough to meet Jeff's eyes. The archaeologist smiled feebly. "I know where the burial was, let me lead the way."

Sam opened his mouth the reply and one of the things latched onto his lip. Jeff let out a gasp of horror as Sam tore it off, nodded and bent his head again, protecting his face as much as he could against his shoulder. He kept his eyes open just enough to see where he was walking on the uneven ground. They pushed through the edge of the black clouds, and darkness swallowed them. A tiny, feeble light cast deep shadows on the ground, but it seemed to be enough for Jeff to pick his way through the enveloping clouds.

It became a struggle for survival, the bats were trying to pull the mummy away, trying to gouge Sam's eyes out and trying to block them with a massed attack of their bodies, so the wave of things hits them like the impact of a semi. Sam fell and the creatures were on him in an instant. Yellowhair's shovel brushed across his back and Jeff lifted him back to his feet and they pressed on.

It felt like they had been fighting for centuries, Sam's energy was sapped almost to the point of no return as he stumbled along beside Jeff. His arms ached from shielding the mummy from the creatures and other attacks that had begun as they got further into the canyon. He was trying to keep going but it was becoming too much, his desperate worry for Dean and the effects of the struggle to reach their destination, beginning to take toll.

"Only a little further," Jeff said in his ear. "I know right where we are."

"It will get bad," Yellowhair stated, stopping in front of them.

"Bad?" _How can it get worse? _The thought was no sooner formed than Sam found out. Pain hit him from somewhere, electric shocks shooting through his body. Jeff was pulled away from him and he was alone in the swirling mass of creatures and clouds. _Sorry, Dean, not sure..._

"Ten feet to your left!" Jeff screamed.

Sam took a deep breath, ten feet, he could make it ten feet. He took a step and another, one more and he would be there. His legs went out from under him and he fell, turning enough to land on his side instead of the mummy. Once down, he could see the pin flag that marked the burial. He pushed himself up on his knees, cradling the bundle against his chest and crawled to the spot. Balancing on his knees, he unrolled the mummy from the tarp and blanket, setting it carefully into the earth.

The darkness around him paused for the space of five heartbeats, Sam heard them thundering in his ears, then something shivered at the edge of his vision. Terror pulsed in his chest. "Close your eyes!Don't look at it!" he screamed, crouching down and covering his head with his arms. He couldn't believe he'd said that, Dean would laugh. _Please Dean, be alive to laugh. _

The ground trembled and heat burned along Sam's body. _Don't look, don't look. _The bats were screeching, their harsh shrieks and the scent of singed flesh filling the air. _Don't look. _He didn't know why, he just knew that looking up at that moment would be a mistake. The soft rumbling in the earth changed tone, Sam braced himself as the explosion ripped through the canyon. Small rocks fell on his back and the wind of the blast whipped around him.

And it was over.

The silence was so profound, for a moment Sam thought he'd been deafened in the explosion, but a groan from behind him told him differently. It was over. _Dean, I'm coming. _The sense of relief was huge. They were going to make it. Sam lifted his head so he could stand, and the sense of relief became complete panic.

The cave in the cliffs hadn't opened again, Dean was still trapped behind a solid wall of rock.

_**To Be Continued**_


	10. Chapter 10

_A/N: I would like the warm and generous Supernaturalbuffy, who purchased me and started this story moving. It is dedicated to her. I hope it didn't go a little too odd. Thank you all for sticking with me through this one. Thank you to TraSan._

**Scream of the Butterfly**

**Chapter Ten**

The cliff soared over Sam's head, the canyon silent a soft whisper of wind. He stared up at the rock wall, panic and desperation slamming through his chest. "No!" he yelled. "NO!" Sam pounded at the stone, his hands aching with the increasingly violent blows. He dropped to his knees and started digging at the base of the cliff, the need to get to his brother overwhelming him. "Dean!"

"Sam! Stop!" Yellowhair grabbed his hands

"Let me..."

"No." Yellowhair kept a tight grip on Sam's hands.

"Please," Sam begged.

"This isn't the way," Yellowhair said gently.

Sam tried to pull away, then sagged against the stone, resting his head against the cool rock. Yellowhair was right, he would never be able to get through this way. With a sigh, he pushed himself up, his hand leaving a bloody print on the cliff as he stood. "You help Jeff, I'll go the other way."

"What other way?" Yellowhair frowned.

"The way we got out, I'll go back up the cliff." Even as he said it, Sam knew he'd never make it. He took several deep breaths. _I have to make it. _Turning he leaned against the wall, bumping his head against the rock, letting the small pain ground him, let it focus him before heading out.

He was falling. The solid stone was suddenly gone and Sam was trying to grab onto thin air to stop the downward plunge. He landed hard enough to knock the breath out of his lungs and stun him for a moment. Blinking, he saw the sky framed in the open mouth of the cave. It took a moment for his brain to catch up with what that meant, then he was struggling to stand, pulling the flashlight out of his pocket and stumbling through the fallen rock towards where he'd left Dean and the others.

He could hear Yellowhair behind him as he ran through the cave, trying to ignore the fresh breaks and slashes in the stone walls. Something had tried to tear the cave apart. His panic ramped up further and further until his heart was pounding in his throat. The scent of wood smoke brought him to a stop for a moment, then he ran on, rounding the last corner before the cavern where they had sought safety.

Smoke eddied through the cave, disappearing into the darkness over their heads. Rich and the others were gathered close to the fire, huddled around a still form on the floor. "Dean!" Sam shouted, racing towards them and slamming to his knees beside his brother. Tears burned in his eyes as he reached a shaking hand for a pulse. Dean was so still. "Dean?" he whispered. When he felt the small beat against his fingers he let out the breath he'd been holding. "He's alive."

Sam looked up at Rich, tears blurring his eyes, letting his hand rest against the faint beat of Dean's pulse as he did. He took a slow breath to control the shaky feeling in his chest, one more slow inhale and exhale and he stood. "We have to get him out of here, and get some help." He bent over to pick Dean up. Rich stopped him. "What?" he growled.

"Let us help, Sam."

"Yes," Yellowhair said, stepping up and grabbing one end of the blanket Dean was laying on, Sam lifted the other, grinding his teeth against the pain in his hands.

They carried his brother back through the cave, out to where the sun flooded the landscape and shadows cast by clouds chased over the red ground. Sam stumbled when he reached the entrance, his legs rubbery. Without warning, his knees buckled and it was all he could do to keep Dean from slamming into the ground as he fell. He leaned against a rock and dropped his hand onto Dean's chest. "It's okay, Dean, help is on the way."

Sam closed his eyes and listened to the activity around him, promising himself he would get up in a minute. He could hear the others as they got the wounded settled, and Yellowhair's deep voice as he spoke with someone—maybe on the phone. There was the call of a hawk from high over their heads and the wind made a low tone, almost musical, as it brushed against the cliff. He would get up in just a minute.

He must have drifted off, he had a strange dream full of sound and movement, of brief pain and a moment of panic, then quiet filled by a rumbling purr. A bump in the road smacked his head against the window and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Damn it, Dean, be careful," he mumbled, still not fully awake.

"We're almost there," Yellowhair answered him.

"Dean!" Sam shot upright, banging his head on the roof of the truck cab.

"It's okay." Yellowhair reached over to steady him. "We're almost there, another five minutes to the highway then ten to the hospital."

"How's my brother?" Sam asked, frantically looking out the window. He could see the railroad bridge in the distance.

"They said he was stable, Jeff, too. One of the other members of project is critical, they found him on the other side of the canyon, it looked like he'd been burned. They checked you over and said you needed to report to the ER as soon as you got in."

"I'm okay."

"Uh huh." Yellowhair nodded. "Your brother mumbled something like that when they were loading him onto the stretcher. Insisted they take you instead—then he passed out again."

Sounds like Dean," Sam said, smiling. He leaned back in the seat and closed his eyes, silently counting the time as the truck lurched onto the pavement and sped down the highway.

When they arrived at the hospital, Yellowhair helped Sam out of the truck and into the small emergency room waiting room. The nurse took Sam's blood pressure and pulse, then ushered him back into one of the treatment bays. He only waited a few minutes before a doctor arrived.

"I'm Dr. George."

"How's my brother?"

George looked down at the file he was carrying. "He's stable. They are prepping him for surgery."

"Surgery?"

"His leg needs a pin, nothing to worry about." He smiled reassuringly. "How did you hurt your hands?" the doctor asked.

Sam looked down at his bruised and bloody hands, remembering the frantic moments when Dean was still behind the wall of the cliff. "Digging."

"Digging?"

"Yeah."

"Arnold did tell me a little about it."

"Arnold?"

"Yellowhair? He's family." George tipped Sam's head to look at the cuts on his face. "This one might need stitches." He gently poked a sore spot on Sam's neck. "Huh. What's that?" The doctor walked to the cupboard on one side of the room and pulled out a pair of forceps. "This will sting."

"It always does," Sam said with a sigh.

"This will sting more." The doctor dug at his neck gently, Sam hissed in pain as George tugged something out of the flesh. He stepped back, staring at the black claw trapped in the forceps. "What the hell is that?" After turning it side to side, he held it out to Sam. "Do you want it?"

Sam started to decline, but changed his mind as he remembered a night when they were in their teens and Dean had spent more than an out carefully collecting the broken bits of a ritual bowl. "_You never know what will be handy later, Sammy." _He nodded. "Thanks."

"I'll stick it over here while I take care of you." George opened a drawer and started pulling things out of it and setting them on the rolling table in the room.

"I need to see Dean."

"We'll get you up to see him as soon as possible, okay?" He stepped out and came back with a nurse. "I'm going to give you something for pain, and then you can relax while we take care of this."

"Just take care of it, I don't need..." Sam felt the prick of a needle and a warmth spread up his arm. Pain he hadn't even been aware of started to dissipate. He sighed as the drugs lulled him into a light doze. He felt someone bandaging his hands and the tug of sutures going in, but he didn't really register them. Sam knew he couldn't fight the warm buzz of the meds, the desperate need to check on Dean was still there, but the fog of painkillers wouldn't let him move right then, try as he might. _Not long, Dean, I'll be there as soon as I can. _

**XXX**

The scent of sage gave way to something else, the soft rustle of the wind in the grass replaced by a gentle rhythmic beep and a steady whisper of air. There was a low throb in his body that Dean knew was pain, but he was removed from it so it was just a pulsing beat. He suspected that was a good thing. If he had been hurt bad enough for Sam to get him into a hospital without a fight, it must be moderately bad. Sam knew better than to try and get him into the hands of the medical profession unless there was a good reason. In fact, Sam usually didn't.... Memory came rushing back, the cave, Joe's deep voice telling Dean that Sam had a plan, the explosion of the world around him. "Sammy!"

"It's okay, Dean," Sam said from beside him.

"Sam?" Dean struggled to get his eyes open, but they felt stuck. He knew Sam would understand what he was asking.

"I'm okay." Sam dropped a hand on Dean's arm. There was something wrong there, but Dean's brain wasn't processing the _what_. "I _am _okay. Sleep a little long."

"You sure?" Dean mumbled, feeling the tug of sleep on the edge of his awareness.

"Yeah. I'll be here, Dean."

"Better be." Dean let himself drift into sleep, comforted by the warm hand on his arm. He was still trying to figure out what was wrong when the soft darkness claimed him.

A groan followed by a thump woke Dean sometime later. "You okay?" Dean said automatically.

"Sorry, my foot slipped," Sam answered. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"Are you okay?" he repeated, opening his eyes and turning his head to look at his brother.

"Hey." Sam smiled. "How do you feel? Cotton mouth?" He reached for the cup beside the bed with bandaged hands and held it up for Dean to take a sip.

"Thanks," Dean said as Sam put the cup down. "I thought you said you were okay?"

"I am."

"Your hands?" Dean took a better look as he became more aware. "And the stitches? And your face?" He tried to sit up, only to be stopped by Sam's hand on his chest, pushing him back down to the bed. "Let me up."

"Hold still. You have a few stitches too."

"Sam," he growled, but relaxed into the bed as the movement pulled something on his chest and ramped up the throb in his leg to something close to actual pain.

"Are you going to stay there?" Sam gave him the full squinch, complete with _that _look.

"Fine."

"Good." Sam leaned back in the chair beside the bed.

"Well?"

"Well?"

"Hands?"

"Oh." Sam looked down as his hands. "They're okay, really. This is just to keep them clean."

"Uh huh."

"Okay, fine. I banged them up a little getting to you, but they're okay."

"What happened?"

"I was about to ask you the same thing," Sam said.

There was something wrong, Dean could see it, something had happened. "I don't know, really. Joe did something, but he stopped it, said you had a plan." The last came out as an accusation.

"I did."

"And?"

"The mummy they excavated was the protector of the area."

"It was Joe."

"It was Joe?" Sam nodded. "I guessed if we brought him back, his protection would be restored." Sam frowned at him. "They needed the physical remains for the protection to work." He stopped, swallowing hard, his eyes tearing up. "Dean..."

"What?"

"You agreed to take his place didn't you?"

"Uh."

"You did. I..." Sam started breathing hard. "I saw you."

"Sammy?" Dean asked gently, laying his hand over his brother's. He should have known something was seriously wrong, Sam's hand was still on his chest, like Sam needed verification he was alive.

"I saw you."

"What?" Dean tightened his grip on Sam's hand. His brother was shaking, a haunted look in his eye.

"I saw you, or thought I did."

"I don't understand."

"The mummy," Sam said his voice tight. "I saw you for a minute." He swallowed. "When I uncovered it at the museum. I saw you in..." He trailed off, his eyes brimming. Sam cleared his throat, but didn't move his hand. "We brought the mummy back and put him back where he belonged." Sam met his eyes.

"I..." Dean began, planning to deny everything, but stopped. "I'm sorry," he said softly. "I was... It was..."

"Dean?"

"I was there," he blurted out.

"There? Where?"

"Where Joe was—where he came from, I mean. When I was there, it seemed to make sense, to become their protector. I did try to say no, but I was too far gone, that was when Joe said you had a plan."

"Yeah." Sam nodded, a small smile on his face. "I did."

"Yep. The others?" Dean blinked, he was starting to get sleepy.

"Rich is fine, Jeff should be out of the hospital tomorrow and the one critical burn case is stable."

"Good." Dean's eyes closed against his will. As he started to fall asleep, something occurred to him. "My car?"

"Out at the dig."

Dean's eyes snapped open. "You left my baby out there?"

"She's okay, Dean. Arnold is keeping an eye on her. I rode in with someone. We'll go get it when they release you."

"Yeah, we better," Dean said, closing his eyes again. He took a deep breath. "Thanks, Sammy."

"Any time, Dean," his brother answered softly.

Dean sighed and drifted into sleep.

**Epilogue**

Dean carefully swung out of the truck, balancing one hand on his crutches. "Back off," he said to his brother. "Sammy, I mean it."

Sam had been hovering for the last three days. Dean was sure they moved up his release date just to get Sam off their back. To be fair, there had been a close call just after their conversation. Dean wasn't sure what happened, he was dreaming, back in the canyon watching birds circling over his head, and the next thing he knew, Sam was shouting and there were a lot of people in his room. Then the hovering had started.

"Be careful with your crutches," Sam said, steadying him with a hand under his elbow.

"I know how to use crutches."

"The ground's uneven, maybe you should just..."

"Sam?" Dean said very carefully, Sam stopped fussing long enough to look at him. "Okay, fine. You can help." Dean handed one crutch to Sam, and let his brother support him as they moved cautiously to where the Impala was parked. When they reached the car, Dean leaned against her with a sigh.

"Thanks for the ride," Sam said to Yellowhair.

"Of course," the man said with a smile. He reminded Dean a little of Joe, something about his eyes. "You two travel safely. Come back sometime." He shook their hands and walked back to his truck, waving at them before heading out of the canyon.

Dean looked around, the red walls were marred by black streaks and huge gouges. His eyes followed the line of the cliff, stopping at a small tent that had been pitched close to where the ranch house had once stood. Rich was walking towards them, a frown on his face, but he smiled as he got closer.

"I... I don't know what to say. I'm not sure thank you is right," Rich said quietly. "They are marking this area as closed to development, and the adjacent private lands as well." He sighed. "Jeff told me about the earlier accidents."

"What are you going to do about him?" Sam asked.

"Nothing. In fact, after talking with him... Well, we are going to be working closely with a local group that wants to protect all the sites in the area. I've signed on as an 'adviser' to give them a little publicity boost."

"That's great," Sam said with a smile.

Dean listened, not really paying attention as he looked over the canyon. In his mind's eye, he could see it as it had been in his dreams, here the call of unknown animals and see people whose faces he would never forget. A flash of movement by the cave drew his eyes, as he watched Joe appeared in the dark shadows by the mouth. Dean could see his smile, he raised his hand, Joe did as well, then turned and disappeared into the cave.

"Hey." Sam's voice was soft. "You okay?"

Dean shifted enough so his shoulder came into contact with his brother. They stood like that for a long moment, Dean focused on the canyon, Sam waiting quietly beside him. "Of course I'm okay, Sammy," he said, pulling away with a smirk. "Ready to go?"

"Yeah." Sam opened the passenger door and helped Dean in, tucking the crutches in the back seat. "Where to?" he asked, sliding into the driver's seat.

"Anywhere," Dean said, relaxing against the seat with a sigh.

"On the way." His brother grinned.

Sam turned the car on and Dean listened contentedly to the rumbling purr of the Impala's engine, after a moment he sat up long enough to shove a tape in the stereo. Sam laughed as Iron Maiden blasted out of the speakers.

It was good to be on the road again.

_**The End**_

_A/N II: I am looking for photo ops with the boys at VanCon. _


End file.
